


Bootstrapping

by Tersin



Category: Highschool DxD (Anime)
Genre: Eventual Multi-Cross, F/F, Main Character Trys to Avoid Canon, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, and fails
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 218,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tersin/pseuds/Tersin
Summary: An insert wakes up on the first day of her new life in a world of magic, with none of her own. No advantages, no starting place, knowing nothing but that she's out gunned at every turn and power is out there to grab. One way or another she'll drag her way to safety and arcane power, over the bodies of everybody in her way if she must.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	1. Book 1 - Prologue

All right, deep breath and calm down. Screaming isn’t going to help anybody. Break it down, what do I know?

First, I’m a baby. As near as I can figure only a few hours, at most days, old. I know this because I’m still in the hospital, currently being cradled by a woman who’s very asleep and looking extremely tired anyway.

Second, based on this I’m apparently in a piece of fanfiction. Hopefully written by some alternate version of myself, otherwise this is probably going to get really uncomfortable.

Who am I kidding, it’s going to be ‘uncomfortable’ at the very best anyway. Also, hello SB! I’d flip you all off on general principal (I’m absolutely positive that I wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn't for everything I’ve read there, or here, what ever) but in spite of my clear thinking I still have a newborn's motor control. Now I’m going to do my absolute best to forget all about you so as to avoid an existential crisis.

Third, judging by the second, and the two impossibly beautiful women with improbably large breasts standing outside the room, talking about how the maternity ward had come up clear of Sacred Gears in the newborns, I was in High School DxD.

High School FUCKING DxD.

Land of impossibly overpowered bullshite and slavery, thinly excused as being okay because the person taking away your free will is a cute girl. I have opinions as it turns out.

The only upside to being a baby that I’ve found so far is that when I have a minor panic attack, I’m actually physically incapable of giving myself away. If I were a year or two older when I figured this out there’s no way I would have been able to avoid giving myself away to what I’m pretty sure are two fallen angels right outside the hospital room door.

I think, anyway. I was never really into anime, and High School DxD hit pretty much all my hate buttons. So everything I know about it comes from fanfiction. Dubious at best. But as I recall, Azriel, or Azazel, or whatever the jackass in charge of the Grigori’s name was, was the one who was really obsessed with sacred gears. Hardly mattered anyway.

Fourth, I am completely screwed. I’m human, and as the nice fallen angels just informed me, I have no sacred gear. Which means unless I’ve been reborn into some sort of spiritualist family I’m fodder. Chaff. Somebody who will die early just to show how powerful and serious the bad guys are.

So like I said, as things stand, completely screwed.

Fuck. That.

I’m starting over from scratch, the very beginning, with the mind of someone much older, and all the motivation in the world to do something about it.

So again, break it down. What are my goals? Given that I doubt I’ll be able to avoid the plot entirely, that’s just not what happens to people in my situation, I need to prepare to deal with it. Although I don’t know much about DxD, never watched it myself and only knew what I could glean from second hand accounts and fanfiction. That said, I have a pretty clear idea of the main plot points, and who the major players are, up till the big peace conference. Which I don’t think is actually much of what’s going on. I’m not sure the major villain had even shown up by then.

So given that I don’t really have much of an advantage from future knowledge, I can make one decision that immediately makes me feel much better. Fuck the plot. I am going to take as much advantage of what I know as quickly as possible and set loose all the butterflies I possibly can.

So... right, goals.

One, get powerful. I need some form of power to not just get run over. Making the top ten with Lucifer and Ophis might not be possible, especially since I’m starting with no advantages, but god damn if I’m not going to try for it anyway. I’m in a world filled with magic, if I don’t at least try to squeeze everything I can out of it, I will never forgive myself.

Two, get skilled. All the power in the world won’t matter if I can’t use it worth a damn. More than just mystical skill, I’m going to need physical skill. I have no desire to be a glass cannon, which means I need to still be dangerous up close. In my past life I had wandered through a few martial arts. Aikido, boxing, krav maga, brazilian jiu jitsu, muay tai, escrima, kenjitsu, and HEMA, were all things I’d tried in my life. I’d never gotten very far into any of them, but I’d had solid basics in all of them.

Not that it means much now, as I’m sure that given my inability to even flop effectively, any muscle memory I’d had is long gone. On the other hand, I still remember all of it fairly clearly, so I can probably shortcut some training. On the other, other hand, what I really need is practical fighting ability, not sports fighting. That may be harder to find, but if it came down to it I could get at least a little bit of experience by getting mugged regularly.

Three, get tough. Eventually I’m going to get hit. By a gun, a light spear, or some rook’s fist. No matter what it is, I'll die immediately if I don’t do something about it. More than that, injury is also inevitable, and as a squishy human, injuries will never really go away. Every time I get hurt will add up and speed along the inevitable failure of my body. So I need as much damage reduction and regeneration as I can manage. Otherwise, I just won’t have the time for the first two goals. And if I can manage a form of immortality out of all of this... well I’ll be trying for that too.

Four, get allies. From what I recall, most of everything we learn about this world is about the Biblical factions. None of which I particularly like. The devils, if I pull any of the above off even a little bit, will never stop harassing me to join one peerage or another. Which is never going to happen, so just a lot of aggravation for everybody involved. The fallen angels, from what little I could tell, were both arrogant in the extreme, and almost universally more than a little mentally unstable. Not the sort of people anybody with any sense wants to spend a lot of time around. Lastly the Angels, and/or the church. I’m not a huge fan of organized religion in general and... well I’d make a terrible Christian, let's just leave it at that.

I think that the only group mentioned in canon that isn't biblical are the Yokai. They... actually I don’t know much about them. Only that they were a diverse bunch, led by a nine tailed fox who is hooked straight into ley lines running under Tokyo, and she had a single kid who was most likely absolutely adorable (I think she got kidnapped at some point?). So I’ll put the Yokai solidly in the ‘maybe’ category. More information is needed.

But other than the Yokai, the world is pretty much a blank slate. I have no idea what’s out there, but I’m going to have to find out. Hopefully they’ll be friendly. Or at least not hostile.

Five, get out. Highschool DxD is the kind of world which, if I pull off anything like what I’m hoping for, I’ll never be left alone. Some power hungry maniac will pretty much always be after me once I start attracting attention, which I can’t avoid forever. Eventually one of them will get lucky. So getting to another world would be nice. Failing that, a pocket dimension I can hide in and control access to. At the very least I need a place where nobody will be able to get to me, but ideally I’ll find a way to a safer universe.

And Six, the reason I don’t think I can do this without attracting attention, and never being left alone. Why devils will be crawling all over each other to entice, or force, me into their peerages. Get all of this, without losing my humanity, my freedom, or my soul.

That’s it. Six goals to survive this place. Get powerful, get skilled, get tough, get allies, get out, and get all of it without giving up anything essential. Easy right?

God, I’m so fucked. I have no idea how I’m going to do any of this.

I let out a squeaky yawn as all the thinking and stress begins to catch up to my newborn body. I feel sleep begin to take me and one last sleepy thought occurs to me. For now at least, I have plenty of time to figure it out.


	2. Book 1 - Alchemy Fail

Age Five Years

I watch the girl in the mirror closely, shoulder length brown hair, hazel eyes, and skin that should be more tan than it is for how much time I spend outside. For all my determination on my first day here, there wasn’t a lot I could do that young. Mostly I’d spent my first several years meditating. Largely because I couldn’t do anything else. Well, that’s not really true. By six months I could have been walking and talking but that seemed a little quick to me. The only reason I didn’t give myself away was that my parents had bought quite a few ‘How to be a Parent’ books. Those fortunately gave a pretty good timeline for when the average kid hit what developmental milestones, allowing me to pretty much coast under the radar.

Of course, even when I could start doing things, I remembered that too much hard exercise at too early an age would ruin me. I couldn’t just do nothing though, so my solution? I became the scrappiest, most tireless tomboy ever. If I’m not sleeping, reading, or eating, I’m running around like a maniac and climbing everything in sight. When I get tired, I rest. Then as soon as I can I’m going again. So really, I should be way more tan than I am.

But no matter what my parents might have believed, my currently bouncing knee had nothing to do with my seemingly unending energy. No, my current restlessness is because I’m finally going to take my first concrete step towards goal one.

Get powerful.

During those first few years of meditation I was trying as hard as I could to get a feel for the world around me. Not in the typical baby exploring way, though I did that too. I’m in California, an entire ocean away from the plot, so no clue what the local supernatural scene is like. Also, no idea where I am temporally in relation to said plot. Really though, I was trying to feel the natural energy of the world. I knew senjutsu was a thing, and I was pretty sure you didn’t have to be a Japanese cat thing to do it either. I also knew that there were ley lines, though I have no clue where those were aside from ‘under Tokyo’. So I spent my first year of life doing nothing but meditating, looking for either of those sources of power.

The results? Aside from getting really good at meditation?

Nada. Zip. Zilch. Nothing.

I don’t know if I was just doing it wrong, looking in the wrong place, or as a mundane human, I just can’t sense either of them. But I couldn’t find anything. So after a solid year of effort I stopped looking.

At that point I started trying to come up with anything that might be a system of magic that wouldn’t require me to provide power. Since clearly, I don’t have any.

In the end I came up with two. First, ritual magic. I know spell circles are a thing. And evidently an important thing that let magic happen. Devils, from what I recall, just imagine what they want their magic to do, and the spell circles seemed almost a by-product of their magic, making it happen. But still, it was proof that some form of organized symbology has a tangible effect on magic. And while I can’t detect the ambient energy of the world, I know it’s there and, hopefully, I won’t have to handle it myself to make it do things.

Besides, I think I remember that shit driving you mad with the planet’s collective hatred for humanity.

Or that was the Fate/Stay series?

Whatever.

The second idea I had was alchemy. This I have far less basis for, but I thought it might be easier anyway. There are plenty of things running around with inherent magic. Not to mention that even mundane things have a lot of esoteric meaning attached to them. With the amount of power that is supposedly just floating around out there, I don’t think it would be too far fetched to think they might actually have some magical effect in line with what everybody thought they meant.

I mean, how the hell would people come to the conclusion that a daisy means purity unless there’s actual evidence of it at some point? That’s what I’m hoping for anyway.

Which brings me back to the present. Sitting in my room, watching myself fidget in my mirror, waiting for my mother to leave for her hair appointment. I’m excited because today would be my first foray into alchemy.

Downstairs, I hear a door open and close, along with a vague shouted goodbye. I hold my breath. The garage door opens, the motor for the automatic door somehow fills the quiet house, no matter how quiet the things are supposed to be. Then the door closes and I leap to my feet, dashing to the window and peeking through the curtains. Down below, my mom’s sedan pulls out of the driveway and vanishes down the street.

A squeal escapes me as I bounce on my toes and pump my fist. Sure, mentally I’m thirty plus, but physically I’m a five year old girl. And while I’m getting a second chance, I’m going to enjoy the hell out of it.

I clatter my way downstairs, according to my dad, sounding like a stampede of tiny elephants. Honestly, as soon as I heard that I went out of my way to be as loud as possible. When my parents asked why, I told them I was shooting to someday be a stampede of normal elephants. Really, I just like the way dad smiles when I do. Neither of my parents smile very much.

Especially around each other.

Downstairs, I start my preparations. Step one: retrieve my ingredients. I have them hidden under the outside steps in a paper bag, drying out. I hope that dried, they will be less potent. This is just a proof of concept after all.

Next, I get my protective gear. An old button up shirt of my dad’s put on backwards will fill in for my lab coat. I pop the collar to protect my neck, and with some contortions I manage to button a couple of buttons to keep it on. I have a painter’s mask to at least mitigate any fumes that might be created, and a pair of safety goggles looted from dad’s tool cabinet to protect my eyes from splashes. They don’t really fit but with enough pulling on the elastic I get them to stay on. Not perfect, but it’s the best I can do.

Then I get a foot stool and plant it in front of the stove. Finding a pot, and trying not to pull everything else in the cupboard out with it, I fill it with water from the sink and then wobble my way back to the stove trying not to spill. I’m at least marginally successful.

Note to self, five year old girls have no upper body strength. Like none. Next time, put the pot on the stove and fill it with a glass or something. Sure it will take longer but I think it might be slightly safer.

Or easier.

I’ll take either.

A long handled spoon for stirring and I’m ready to go.

I set the water to heating and start unloading my ingredients from my bag. I have them bundled by like symbolism. A bundle of everything I could get my hands on that represented health, another for protection, and so on. I’ve made very sure that nothing in any of them are inherently poisonous. Sure, plenty of them probably aren’t good for me, but there’s no belladonna, nightshade, or hemlock. I’m not planning on drinking any of it any way. Today’s plan is simply to pile on as many similarly symbolic things together as I can and just see if I can get a reaction.

Which reminds me!

I hop down from the stool, run to get the cordless phone, and scamper back to my incipient potion. I carefully punch in 9-1-1 so I’d only need to push the dial button if something goes catastrophically wrong.

I put the handset in easy reach, and checking the pot which had reached a roiling boil, I’m ready to get started. I select my protection bundle under the theory that even if something does go horribly, it still probably won't hurt me as that’s pretty much it’s antithesis.

Carefully I shred my plants into the pot. A fern frond, birch bark, bamboo shoot, fresh, and half a dozen other things are reduced to tiny pieces and added to the brew. I’m not really expecting anything spectacular, but as I drop things into the pot and keep stirring the liquid begins to thicken...

And then I’m on the other side of the kitchen looking up at the ceiling and a high pitched whine is the only thing I can hear. My goggles are askew and, under my painter’s mask, there’s a giant grin that I just can’t get to go away. I’m so glad that little kids are made out of rubber.

I actually take this as a resounding success. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, in that pot that should have exploded. Nothing that should have been capable of exploding. So the extra energy to toss me four feet across the kitchen has to have come from somewhere. Where? 

Magic.

I dramatically point towards the ceiling, “I must do more science!” I cry and bounce back to my feet to see what the damage is.

Honestly, I was expecting worse. The pot is fine and hasn’t moved at all. Neither has anything else for that matter. Even the phone handset, sitting upright on the counter next to the pot, is right where I’d left it. In fact, the only things that seem to have been affected by the explosion are myself and the brew. Which has become a sort of brownish sludge, and has ended up splattered everywhere.

I consider cleaning it up... but honestly it’s quite likely that it isn’t the only stuff that will end up all over the place. So I don’t really see the point of cleaning up the kitchen only to have to do it again in fifteen minutes. I’ll clean up when I'm done. This time I think I’ll try the healing bundle...

In any case, this is definitely going to work!

###

This is definitely not working. Not in the slightest. At this point I’m out of bundles, I’d tried twenty of them, and none of them are useful.

I’d varied the amount of ingredients, temperature of the water, and everything else I could think of to get different results. No luck. I get the same thickening and explosion everytime. No matter what.

Healing bundle? Explosion.

Purifying bundle? Explosion.

Good luck bundle? Explosion.

At the end, I’d even started mixing and matching ingredients from different bundles to try and get anything else to happen. No luck. Thicken, explosion, that’s it. It even turns into the same brown sludge every time.

So now I’m laying on the floor after using up the last of my painstakingly collected ingredients. The room is covered in an uneven collection of whatever my efforts at potion making have actually resulted in. My front is fairly well covered too.

Really, in the end, it was almost a total waste of time. The only reason it isn’t a complete disaster is that the whole experience reaffirmed my belief that there is actually magic out there in the world for me to find. And this method clearly got in touch with it somehow.

It will take a lot more experimentation to make the process do something useful, though. Fortunately I have nothing but time, so I can proceed carefully...

The house is filled with the sound of an inexplicably all consuming electric motor.

I take it back! I have no time!

I scramble to my feet as quickly as I can and start frantically looking around for the towels I’d set out for cleaning... that I’d meant to set out for cleaning.

“Oh my god!” I flinch at the sound of my mothers shocked voice, “Ericka Samantha Rhostana!” Ah shit, she three named me, “What exactly have you been doing in here?”

Cringing, I turn towards where my mother stands in the doorway to the kitchen, “I can explain?” My mother’s only response is to cross her arms and raise an eyebrow at me. I have a moment of clarity, seeing exactly what this must look like to her. Her five year old daughter, dressed in her fathers shirt, on backwards. One sleeve partially rolled up, the other flopping well past her hand. Oversized safety goggles sitting haphazardly on her face, the giant painter’s mask being the only thing holding them up. Hair in complete disarray, and covered in the same brown crud that covers the rest of the room. At least I’m probably cute, “Okay, I really can’t explain. I’m grounded, aren’t I?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, young lady,” Mom says severely.

“Would it help me at all if I told you your haircut looks great?” It did. She has it in a nice and simple shoulder length cut with some minimal bangs framing her face.

Mom tries, but she can’t totally hide the smile that tries to show up at my compliment, “Go to your room, now. You will stay there until your father and I have decided what to do with you, understand?” I nod. “Say it.”

“I understand,” I slump.

“And leave your... safety gear here.” I acknowledge the order by pulling the shirt off over my head, along with my head gear, and leave it in a pile in front of me. Mom leans forward to inspect me with narrowed eyes. Having gone over me from head to toe several times, and making me turn around so she can see all of me, she’s satisfied. “Actually, go take a bath before you go to your room. You’ve got that... stuff all over you.” I nod and scamper off before I can find some way to make this worse. I’m brought up short after only a few steps as she calls after me, “What exactly were you trying to do here anyway?”

Fortunately, I have a foolproof answer for that one, “Magic potions!” I chirp, bounding on my toes again.

“Magic potions,” Mom deadpans, looking at me over her shoulder.

“Uh huh!” I nod rapidly. Mom just groans pinching the bridge of her nose and waves me off.

Without another word I make good my escape.

I strip down with no small amount of relief in my bathroom. The clothes are more than slightly disgusting. Chucking them into the hamper I examine myself. God, I’m skinny, I’m not sure if it’s possible for a five year old to have muscle definition, but I certainly don’t have any. I’m just satisfied that there’s really no fat on my frame either.

When I’d first discovered that I’m a girl in this new life, I’d nearly had a panic attack. Not because I’m female. Honestly, my gender has never been too integral to my self identity. My sexuality is far more of a concern. So as long as I still find girls attractive when I hit fifteen, I really couldn’t care less about the plumbing.

No, the reason I’d freaked out is actually a person. Somebody I’m sure I won't be able to avoid completely. Issei Hyoudou, the nominal lead character and hero for this universe. And isn’t that a depressing thought. Issei, as near as I can tell, is basically a puppy. Stupid, eager to please, and completely incapable of not humping your leg. And for some reason, nearly every female that comes into contact with him finds this behaviour attractive in the extreme.

I know that it’s at least partially because he’s a harem protagonist, but that’s also the problem. I am now one of his preferred targets. If his... ‘charisma’ affects me, I’m going to kill him immediately, or myself, just to avoid the brainwashing.

I’ve always been more of a cat person anyway.

###

It takes another hour and a half for my dad to get home. Which is good because it takes two-thirds of that time for me to get the gunk out of my hair. I also spend a certain amount of time poking the places on my body where the sludge had landed and dried to see if it has conferred some effect that isn’t immediately obvious.

No such luck.

When my dad does get home it only takes another ten minutes for the yelling to begin. I try as hard as I can not to listen in on what’s being said. I turn up my stereo to try and drown them out. And when that only partially works I start shadow boxing in front of my mirror in an effort to give myself something else to focus on.

Boxing is coming back to me remarkably quickly. Though whether that’s because of memories from the last time I’d learned, or the saying about the sweet science being quick to learn and long to master is just that accurate, I really can’t say.

Eventually I’m called down to dinner. I go down the stairs with my usual pachyderm impression, earning a small smile from my father, though he quickly schools his features to look stern again.

“So I hear you spent the afternoon making magic potions?” My father asks, clearly trying not to smile. My parents are a study in contrasts. My mother is a short woman who I would venture to call voluptuous. The woman is all curves, and wide ones to boot. My father, on the other hand, while not tall, is certainly taller than mom, and made out of toothpicks and chewing gum. By which I mean he’s never really outgrown his gangly phase. He’s all elbows and knees and, when drunk, he moves like a muppet.

In the darkest parts of my own mind that will never see the light of day, I frequently wonder how exactly my father had convinced my mother to marry him.

Or sleep with him.

I suspect alcohol was involved.

The real problem is that I’m beginning to think that my mother doesn't know why she married him either.

I nod my head slowly in response to my fathers question. I know I’m in trouble and while I doubt he’ll be willing to level any punishment at my five year old self that would actually bother me... well, I still have a part to play.

From under my lashes I can see my dad’s lips twitching, trying not to smile, “How did that work out?”

I grind a toe into the ground, “Um... Not well? I made explosions!” I cheer, looking up at them with a big smile on my face. Which immediately falls as I see my mother’s expression. Storm clouds are friendlier, “And a mess.”

“Right,” my father sighs.

I think he’s about to say something more, but mom gets there first, “Clearly, we can’t trust you home alone, young lady,” Mom says sternly, “Everybody said that you were too young, but I thought you were unusually mature for your age and could handle it. Clearly I was wrong,” Ouch, okay that actually hurts. I study my shoes in great detail, trying as hard as I can not to cry. Stupid five year old body, “So from now on you won’t be. You’ll be with me or your father, or at school,” Her expression pinched. I’m pretty sure she’s thinking about how I have no friends my own age. I don’t like worrying her, but I have shit to do that has nothing to do with dolls. Besides if I’m going to be friends with somebody it will be somebody I can hold a conversation with. Not something the average five year old is capable... Wait.. WHAT? No! I need time unsupervised to pursue arcane power! “I suppose we’ll have to find you a babysitter.”

“No!” Flies out of my mouth before I know what was happening. My father’s still trying not to laugh while my mother purses her lips, “Not a baby,” I grumble as an excuse.

My father finally loses his war for composure and starts laughing softly while my mother’s expression softens. She sighs deeply, “Ericka, do you understand why we...” She glances at my father and frowns, “Why I am upset?”

“Made a mess?” I offer. Haven’t we covered that?

“That’s part of it, yes, but a small part. I don’t know what you were playing with, but by your own admission you managed to make several explosions. When I came home you were laid out on the floor! You could have hurt yourself and nobody would have been here to help!”

Oh. I suppose that’s true, too. Well, shit. I suppose, given that, I really won’t be able to do anything to convince them to leave me alone with the stove again any time soon. That being said, I still can’t afford to do nothing to move towards my goals. So if goal one is out, move on to goal two. Now how to approach this?

I have an idea, “But it’ll be sooo boring!” I whine. Unlike normal, when I try to act as some sort of compromise between my physical and mental ages, I’m going for maximum annoying here, “You’ll be doing grown up things and I’ll have to sit there and wait, and I’ll have to find things to do while you do!” My parents look concerned. As well they should. As mangled as that sentence was, no parent wants to be confronted with the idea of their five year old finding ways to entertain themselves in public while bored.

“Well...” My father says slowly, “Understanding that we still can’t leave you unsupervised, what would you want to do?”

A small smile tries to crawl across my lips and I forcefully repress it so as to not give the game away, “Well... one of the kids at school has an older brother who was talking about something called Aikido...”


	3. Book 1 - Used Book Stores Have the Best Things

Age Seven

My ploy to start my martial training as early as possible had met with more success than I thought I would get in my wildest dreams. Aikido had been a big hit with my parents.

My mother being the biggest fan. If only just.

Apparently, the idea of her little girl being able to break any would be rapists she might meet in dark alleys appealed to her. I think my father was imagining mostly the same scenario, just with prospective boyfriends. I still haven’t worked up the nerve to tell him he’s likely worrying about the wrong gender.

Aikido itself, however, ended up being something of a disappointment. At some point since the last time I’d really paid attention to the art, it had become far more ‘art’ than ‘martial’. It’s all right exercise, but largely, it’s gone the way of Tai Chi.

What it did, however, is act as an excellent gateway for my parents. Once I’d been doing Aikido for a month, I pitch the idea of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, describing it as ‘Aikido, only you’re lying down’. Which it isn’t, but my parents didn’t know that, and in their ignorance it was an easy sell.

From there I added Jujitsu, ‘It’s like Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, only standing up.’

That, with the help of the instructor and a lot of fast talking, segued into boxing. That, without too much more trouble, led to Muay Thai, and then I point out that since I have all the pieces I might as well just go to an MMA gym and do them all together. At that point my parents had pretty much given up, so getting them to let me go to a HEMA (Historical European Martial Arts) studio to learn swordsmanship barely took more than the asking.

It was in Jiu Jitsu class that the biggest change to my planned training regimen happened. I’d been somewhat worried about conditioning, and when I could start weight training, and what it would do to me if I got it wrong. And then I met Sarah. Black hair, blue eyes, the sort of pretty child that would grow up to be just an unfair adult. 

Looking at Sarah was almost like looking in a mirror. She’s my age, and just as scrappy as I am. We only shared Jiu Jitsu classes when we met, but she recommended the MMA gym we also end up sharing. The only differences between the two of us really are that she’s pretty, where I’m plain. She’s almost sickeningly cheerful, where I’m much calmer. And she is in the best shape of any little girl I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot of them in the last seven years.

I asked her what she does, and she answered ‘gymnastics’.

Which at the end of two years settled my schedule. Gymnastics five days a week, a martial art after them, rotating by day of the week, with HEMA on Saturday. Sunday is left free for anything else I might want to do and family time. As awkward as that can be.

Also, by the time things settled, it got my parents several things that made them happier. I’m apparently much easier to manage when I get home after my various extracurriculars and only have enough energy to eat, wash, and make it to my bed. Homework gets squeezed in where I can. This means I have no time or energy for trouble.

Sarah also became my first, and only, friend. Something I know my parents have been growing more and more concerned with. Most of the time I find children my own age unsurprisingly difficult to relate to. However with Sarah, we’re so busy doing things that my relative maturity hardly ever matters. Whenever she comes over to my house we usually end up wrestling, chasing each other, or climbing something.

It’s nice to have a friend again.

###

Over time, as I continue to not blow up anything else and improve my imitation of a normal girl with Sarah’s unwitting help, my parents begin to gradually relax. They’re less obsessive about making sure they’re there the moment my time isn’t otherwise occupied. Which is why I now have the chance I’ve been waiting for since about three months after I’d started Jiu Jitsu classes.

Right across the street from the dojo is a used/antique book store. In the city there are more than a few of these, it’s a college town after all. But this one has an unusual number of impossibly gorgeous, and stacked, women visiting it.

It’s kind of sad that my principal method of identifying something supernatural is how attractive the females are. Opportunities to test this assumption have been few and far between, and so far inconclusive. Fortunately, a small child can ask a pretty lady if she’s an angel and nobody thinks it’s odd. Unfortunately, trying to catch somebody with potentially several thousand years of experience at lying is an exercise in futility.

Doesn’t stop me from trying though.

These are the sorts of things that in ten years my parents will use as stories to embarrass me, aren’t they?

Still, it’s the best I have to go on, so I’ll take my chances while I can to follow what leads I have. Thin as they are. So as soon as class ends and I finish saying goodbye to Sarah, girl is a hugger, I grab my bag without bothering to change and scamper across the street the moment the traffic is clear.

There’s a gentle ding from a bell overhead as I open the door and slip in. The store itself is everything I expect from a used book store. A small open space just inside the door with a wooden bargain bin to the right and a counter immediately to the left. Straight ahead are the stacks. Rows of shelves dedicated to mythology, plays, botany, physics, philosophy, fiction and a dozen other topics filled the air with the scent of old paper.

With a grin I start forward, only to be brought up short by a pointed cough. Looking to the counter I finally notice the mildly amused looking goth teenager who’s manning the counter. She gazes at me for a long moment, a smile tugging at black painted lips. “Sorry, cutie. Can’t let you take a bag into the store, it has to stay here with me,” she says, while indicating a sign that says as much in quite clear lettering.

I blush, partially because I really should have noticed the sign, and partially because it’s somewhat flattering being called ‘cute’ by the older girl. With an embarrassed smile I hand the backpack with my normal clothes over the counter, and scamper into the stacks.

I have maybe half an hour before one of my parents shows up to collect me, so I try to work fast. The first place I go is the section where they keep the antique books. Or I try to. There’s a very fancy door made of hardwood that just looks heavy. Unfortunately it also comes with a sign that says, ‘By appointment only’. So I’m pretty much SOL there.

The occult section is decently large, and unsurprisingly holds things that are either new agey bullshit, or well outside of my price range. Or both. Mostly both. I scan the philosophy section as fast as I can, and find nothing, and then end up in the anthropology section. There I finally hit pay dirt. A book on the history of Norse runes is pretty much exactly what I want. The book costs nine fifty and I have ten dollars on me so I can just afford it.

Clutching the book to my chest I scramble back towards the front, almost clipping the bargain bin on my way past. Dancing around the wooden cart I happen to see a rather large leather tome half buried in the pile of crappy paperback fantasy and romance novels. Mostly just for the hell of it, I pull the large book free to take a look at.

The cover is nothing I can read. No idea what language it is, but it’s composed of symbols both flowing and harsh, rigid and light.

Pulling the cover open I find the title page is in English, ‘The World Script' it reads. No idea what that is, but it seems a little too convenient for me not to take a chance on. The problem being that the leather bound book costs five dollars. I can get it, or the book on runes, not both.

I struggle for a moment trying to decide what to do. The runes, which I recognize and are supposedly magical, or ‘The World Script’, which really feels like something deliberately put in my way. Finally I make my choice, and run to put the rune book back before hefting the large tome onto the surface of the counter that’s only slightly shorter than I’m. Another two years of growth and working my ass off has done wonders for my upper body strength, at least relative to the standard set by seven year old girls.

The teenager at the counter takes the book and raises an eyebrow as she starts ringing it up, “This seems a little advanced for you,” she comments. I try not to feel condescended to. They probably are too advanced for any other seven year old. “What are you up to with this?”

“Magic!” I chirp back at her, trying as hard as I can to channel overly enthusiastic child. I must have succeeded because she just snorts, an amused and mysterious smile curling her lips.

“Five dollars, sweety.” She smiles at me again.

“Um... My money’s in my bag,” I tell her. I get my bag back without fuss, pay and stuff the book into my bag. “Thanks!” I tell her, waving before darting out the door.

Unfortunately, my dad has shown up while I was in the store and is on the edge of panicking at my having ‘vanished’. I really hope that I've gotten what I needed on this trip, because I think my grounding just got more strict again.

###

It takes me two days to find the time to really dig into my purchase. Mostly that’s my own fault. In my effort to cram as much progress as I can into as short a time as possible, I’ve done too good a job. I barely have any free time between school, various martial arts, gymnastics, Sarah, and my parents watching my every move. And of course I’m unwilling to take ‘The World Script’ out of my room, so I can’t exactly read it during lunch or anything.

Fortunately, getting time by myself in my room to read a book isn’t so hard after I actually have time.

What I find is both the best hope I’ve had since I got here, and extremely frustrating. ‘The World Script’ is more of a dictionary than anything else. A seemingly endless number of symbols, their meanings, and pronunciations. In the universal phonetic alphabet no less, so that’s lucky. The symbols themselves are structured almost like a Russian nesting doll.

There’s a symbol for ‘earth’, that if altered correctly would mean a specific type of earth, like ‘clay’. That symbol can be further altered to represent how the clay has been shaped, such as ‘clay plate’, which can again be further altered to represent a specific clay plate, as opposed to clay plates in general.

The result being that if you know how to read them, a single symbol can describe everything about an object. How old it is, what it’s made out of, how well it’s made, the specific kind of clay, even what techniques are used to make it, and every flaw in its construction or damage it’s acquired over time.

And there are symbols in the Script for everything.

What the book doesn’t have is any information on how to organize or make use of the Script. Nothing on grammar, or sentence structure, and especially nothing on how to use and activate this clearly magical language.

So useful, but frustrating as hell. I’m going to end up tearing my hair out. So close, but still impossible to use. Given the explosions my alchemy had caused, I’m a little hesitant to just start trying things.

Well... maybe? I can probably find something innocuous and harmless. I eye the book again. Fire is a terrible idea. Maybe Ice? That sounds better, I can find the Script symbol for ‘freeze’ and provide my own water so that when all the water provided is frozen the reaction will stop!

Yeah, this will work.

Nodding to myself, I get up and run down to the kitchen to find a glass and get some water. Running back upstairs, followed by my mother yelling at me to slow down and not spill, I settle down at my desk with the Book, a spare piece of paper and a pencil, and start to try and find what I need in the large tome.

It takes a little bit of work as the difference between ‘freeze’ and ‘frozen’ is pretty subtle. But soon enough I have it and scribble the symbol down on the paper. Placing the glass on top of the symbol, I speak the word that goes with the symbol and hold my breath.

Nothing happens.

After I start to feel a little dizzy from not breathing, I decide that something has gone wrong. Organizing a complicated effect with multiple symbols I can see screwing up plenty, but a single symbol? How can I have gotten that wrong? Unless I’m supposed to do something other than draw and speak the Script to get them to work? Maybe they need to be on something specific?

I move the glass of water and examine what I’ve drawn, comparing it to what’s in the Book.

...Well, that line is at a sharper angle.

...And that curve is much shallower.

Okay, maybe I can screw up a single symbol plenty.

At least it hasn’t exploded?

###

Sketching becomes my new obsession. I draw everything. A lot of it is the Script symbols, but only while I’m at home. I don’t want to explain to my teachers or my parents where the giant leather bound tome had come from. The rest of the time I draw anything that falls into my field of view. People, animals, objects, plants, insects, anything.

I draw more than the Script symbols because I don’t just want to get good at drawing whatever specific symbol I’m practicing. I want to be able to see a new symbol and draw it right the first time.

Not to mention I still have no idea how this Script will translate into arcane power just yet. It could be that all I’ll have to do is pronounce the word and something would happen. But on the off chance that making use of this will involve writing it in the middle of a fight, I want lots of practice replicating something that I’ve only seen once.

The other thing I do to start making use of the tome is to check out a book on the universal phonetic alphabet. The UPA is an amazing thing, invented by linguists to have a way to write down literally every sound the human mouth can make. Clicks, tonals, everything. This means that if you know how to read it, you can pronounce a word correctly even if you’ve never heard the language before.

As it turns out I have no idea how to read it, so my first attempt at the vocal part of Script was epically bad. So that’s another thing I need to learn in my copious spare time. Needless to say, I’m beginning to run myself a bit ragged.

I just have to hope that it isn’t beginning to show. Last thing I need is my parents trying to get me to slow down on some aspect of my training.


	4. Book 1 - When Elephant's Fight the Grass Loses

Age Eight

It’s my mother picking me up and nearly squeezing the life out of me that finally shakes me from my daze, “Oh my god, Ericka, are you okay? Did you see anything? You’re safe now! Are you hurt?” The flow of parental babble helps me to ease back into the present.

Looking down at myself I find my jacket hanging off one shoulder, my backpack hanging off the other. In one hand I have a crumpled piece of paper that I’m clutching hard. I’m covered in dust, scrapes, nicks, and bruises, and my shirt is full of holes.

“I’m... fine?” I’m not entirely sure. Looking over my shoulder I see the school. The large hole in one wall indicates that something exciting has happened. When I try to remember though...

A gun scare? School shooting? In an elementary school that’s unusual. But...

“She’s fine, Ma’am.” My train of thought is interrupted by another voice. I’m sitting on the back of an ambulance, one of many that has crammed their way into the parking lot of the school. “She’s just in shock. It’s not surprising given what happened.” Many children are being tended to and fussed over by their parents, much like myself.

“What did happen?” demands my father. He sounds forceful for maybe the first time in my life. Besides it’s obvious isn’t it?

My eyes are drawn back to the large hole in the school wall.

“I can’t really say, sir.” The paramedic does a great job of remaining calm in the face of what’s probably just one of many panicking parents they’ve dealt with today, “I only got here after the fact, and the investigation is still ongoing.” He’s probably just happy that he’s not dealing with one of the parents whose kids have been brought out on a stretcher, or under a sheet.

Or one whose kid is missing.

It’s a school shooting...why are kids missing?

I blink again, trying to remember what happened. There had been an alarm? No, the sound came first. Gunfire my brain insists, even though I can’t summon up any details. I do shudder in dread when I try though, so maybe that’s for the better. I remember running... which is wrong. You’re supposed to lock the door to the classroom and shelter in place, unless you absolutely have to move. But I was running. I think I tackled somebody? A boy in my class out of the way of something...

The memories are fading like a dream, the only things that stay are that there had been a school shooting. I ran. And... that’s it?

Is that wrong? It doesn’t feel wrong. Just incomplete.

I’m put in the car and buckled in, my parents worried conversation is reduced to nonsensical noises.

I’m so tired.

The next thing I know we’re at home. Which is wrong. It’s Tuesday, which means gymnastics, and boxing. It’s been that way for almost three years, why are we at home?

“Honey?” I blink looking up at my mother, “Can you let go?” I look down at myself again. My jacket is gone, as is my backpack, and my mother is trying to pull the paper out of my hand, “I’ll put it on your desk so you won’t lose it.” It takes effort to unclench my hand. I can almost hear my bones creaking, they’re so stiff from gripping the paper as hard as I can for so long. But I manage to loosen my fingers enough for the paper to be pulled free.

Once that’s done, there’s a shower, though I don’t think I did much of it myself. Then I’m put to bed, and asleep before my head hits my pillow.

###

I wake up and my everything hurts. It’s like the first day I’d done gymnastics, or boxing, or Brazilian Jiu Jitsu... any martial art really. The only difference being that these are all muscles I’d become familiar with previously.

Familiarity doesn’t make it suck any less though.

With a groan I pull myself upright and look around my room, blinking. The sun is way too high in the sky for it to be my usual wake-up time. Habit leads me through my morning stretching/workout routine. I’d gotten it by mixing things we do as warm ups in gymnastics and stuff from a book on yoga I’d found. The routine goes much slower than normal and I spend a lot of it wincing and groaning as I stretch sore muscles. When I finish I feel much better, though. The exercise doesn’t do much for the scrapes and bruises, but my muscles feel miles better.

Trying to remember the day before still makes me shudder in dread, so I shy away from trying to dredge up more detail. Instead, I head down stairs to figure out what’s going on.

Oddly enough, both my parents are home. At ten thirty in the morning no less, according to the clock. The moment I’m noticed my mother descends on me in a cloud of barely suppressed parental panic.

“Ericka!” She catches me up in a hug which I return more out of habit than anything else. “How are you feeling?” she asks, pushing me back slightly to look me up and down.

“I hurt,” I comment and immediately regret it as I see the panic become somewhat less suppressed, and my father starts moving towards us in something of a hurry, “Like really sore.” I continue quickly to try and calm them down without lying to them, “Like I overdid it in Brazilian jiu jitsu again.”

That seems to calm them down some. “That’s good,” my dad says, looking over mom’s shoulder, “You’re looking better. You were pretty out of it last night.”

“Do you remember anything?” Mom is looking pretty concerned, probably wondering if I’ll need therapy or something.

“I remember...” I shudder at the feeling of dread and mentally shy away from thinking about the event itself, “I remember you getting there while I was getting looked at. I kinda remember the car, and I know you got me clean and into bed...” I shake my head, “That’s it.”

Both of them let loose sighs of relief, “You’re sure?” Mom asks, “You seemed a little upset at the beginning.”

I nod, “I’m... trying not to think about anything before that,” I admit, “But as long as I don’t think about it I’m fine. Can I go to gymnastics and jujitsu?” My mom hesitates, likely she doesn’t want to let me out of her sight. “I want to see Sarah,” I push, “She’ll be really worried if she’s heard what happened.”

“They did say that getting back to a normal routine as fast as possible would be good for her,” my dad points out when mom seems to be wavering still. That seems to do the trick though, as she gives another sigh, frustrated this time.

“Fine. If you take the rest of the day slowly, and you don’t have any other problems before it's time to go, you can go,” mom finally caves. I bounce and cheer and immediately regret it. “And you promise to take it easy in class,” mom admonishes me, earning a sheepish nod.

Bouncing like that had hurt.

I spend the rest of the day with both of my parents. Normally this would have been a nightmare, but apparently the scare has unsettled them enough that they are both unwilling to focus on anything but me. This includes all the things that would usually drive them up the wall about each other.

So instead, we have breakfast. We walk in a park, in what I’m pretty sure is a subtle attempt to see if I’m really as physically well as I claim. I already have a reputation with my parents and trainers of ignoring or downplaying injuries that would keep me from my training.

We even go to see a movie. A film about toys coming to life when nobody's looking. That’s a lot of fun, and mostly appropriate for my physical age. I’d seen it before in my last life, and the differences between my old world’s version and this one are interesting.

The biggest change is that the space ranger action figure is female. I figure it has something to do with how many more female supernaturals there are than male. Which means, statistically, more of the supernatural badasses are female as well. Even if the mundane world isn’t aware of this, that sort of thing would have an impact on cultural subconscious biases.

I’m also proud of them for not having even a hint of romance between the cowboy and space ranger characters.

In the end though, I manage to convince my parents that I’m not too much more injured than I claim to be, and they let me go to my after school classes. The moment I walk in the door to my gymnastics class I’m hit by a black haired missile that takes us both to the ground. I manage to fall well at least, and end up with Sarah straddling me and talking a mile a minute.

“Oh my god are you okay? Mommy was talking about what happened at your school! She said it was really bad and that you shouldn’t go back there but that wouldn’t be a problem because the school would be closed for a long long time and you’d probably need to go to a new one and I told her that you should come to my school because then we could play all day as well as just after school...”

I finally manage to get a hand over her mouth. Which she immediately starts licking, but I ignore that. “I’m fine, Sarah. At least mostly. Just a little banged up. I got more hurt falling out of that tree last summer.” I’d broken my arm, and hadn’t that been an annoying set back in my training. Got really good with my left hand though.

“Well, that’s good,” she says as she finally manages to pull my now very damp hand away from her mouth. I wipe it off on her pants, “You’ll tell your mommy that you should come to my school right?” Ah, the priorities of eight year olds. I’m not dying, so the next most important thing is securing more hangout time.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her.” Sarah is fun, and I could stand to play with her more. Most of our play doubles as training anyway.

“Girls.” Both Sarah and I look up at the gymnastics coach, “Sarah, get off of Ericka.” My friend pops to her feet like she’s made out of springs, “Ericka, I heard what happened yesterday. Are you sure you're well enough to participate? Or are you just going to watch.” Her tone makes it clear which she thinks it should be. She glances over my head at where my mother is hovering. Normally she leaves me in the care of Sarah’s parents, but not today it seems.

“I’m good!” I insist, trying to project as much energy as I can, and bouncing to my feet like Sarah had. Ow, bouncing still hurts. All I get for my trouble is a raised eyebrow, “Good enough to try at least.” I amend in the face of clear disbelief. Sarah, bless her tiny heart, is nodding next to me, backing me up. With a sigh, the coach gestures for me to join the rest of the girls and starts class for the day.

Honestly, I’m not one hundred percent, and it shows in my performances in both gymnastics and Jiu Jitsu. I’m incredibly sore in some really odd places.

But I manage to get through the day and home again, falling asleep just as easily as I had the night before. When morning comes I’m at something of a loss once I finish my morning routine. The school is closed and, like Sarah had said, likely to stay that way for some time. My training won’t start until the normal after school time. Sarah still has to go to school so she was busy.

I’m looking forward to having most of the day free for the first time in two years, and I have absolutely no idea what to do with myself. With a sigh I decide that I can get some Script and sketching practice in, so drag myself over to my desk.

Settling in, I pull my Script dictionary, as I call the large tome, into a good reference position and only then notice a crumpled up piece of paper set off to one side. With a frown I pull it over. I can’t really remember what it is, or where it had come from for that matter. So I carefully uncrumple it and flatten it out, and freeze, breath catching in my throat.

Sitting there on my desk, right in front of me, is a devil flier. The pictures of naked girls in the corners seem a little unnecessary, but I’ll admit they probably attract the usual intended target audience. But the thing that’s claiming most of my attention is the circle printed in the middle of the paper, entirely formed of World Script.

As soon as I start breathing again I almost start hyperventilating with excitement. Since I had gotten the book almost a year ago, I have been wrestling with how to make the Script do anything. In fact, I was beginning to suspect that as fascinating as the Script is, it isn’t actually magical in any way.

But here in front of me is a functional piece of working magic, and it’s made from Script. I’m, in a word, giddy. It takes me almost ten minutes to calm down enough to actually start to make use of my new discovery, but as soon as I can focus again, I settle in and start to translate the circle.

This will be my Rosetta Stone, it’ll give me grammar, structure, and if I’m very lucky, how to make it all work together.

###

It takes me almost all of my free time during the week to translate the flier. Which nearly causes me some problems with mom and dad as they are convinced that I’m depressed and traumatized, hiding in my room the whole time. Placating them takes some time, but is actually fun at first.

Then, as they begin to realize that I’m not in danger of imminent explosion, they start sniping at each other again.

Less fun.

Still, the flier has turned out to be every bit as informative as I hoped it would be. It’s pretty clear, with an example in front of me, where I’d gone wrong trying to make Script work the first time. I had assumed that written magic like this would function like computer code. Precisely describe what you want to happen and what will set it off, and then it goes. As little extra and as precise as you can get away with, everything dry and explicitly clear. I also expected a lot of math to be involved.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

In fact, it’s more like reading a short story. Descriptive prose designed to evoke emotion as much as a clear image of the desired result. I wish I had more examples to work with, but this is enough to get started.

I’ve always been better at storytelling than math anyway. So this is actually pretty good for me.

I can work with this.

###

I groan, slamming my head into ‘The World Script’. It still isn’t working. I’ve been tinkering for almost three months with the Script and how to organize it, based on the flier. School had started up again at the end of that first week. I did indeed request, and end up at, Sarah’s school, though we are in different classes. Still, with this new project taking the place of a lot of my sketching practice, I have plenty of time for experimentation.

So far nothing.

I’ve tried different word order, both more and less specific Script symbols. I’ve tried writing from right to left, left to right, up and down, in circles, squares, stars. Once, in a fit of frustrated whimsy, I even wrote one in the Disney mouse silhouette.

I tried writing in poetry instead of prose. I tried being more descriptive, less descriptive. I even tried to imitate the florid prose of H.P. Lovecraft. Which in hindsight I’m very glad didn’t work.

It’s clear that whatever power others use to fuel magic, I don’t have any, so I add an entirely new set of Script symbols that should draw on the power that I know saturates this world. At least that’s what it should have done. Given I get the same zero result as all my other attempts, it even might have and I’m just doing something else wrong that I haven’t thought of yet.

I flop my head to the side and end up staring at the devil flier. Maybe I need a larger sample size of actual effective examples of World Script. I might be missing some essential rule or standard just from lack of comparisons.

The problem is I don’t know where to find more examples of World Script in use. Or even more fliers...

I blink, then frown at the flier. Come to think of it, I don’t know where I’d gotten this flier. Somebody had to have given it to me, and that seems like the sort of thing that would stick out in my memory. If for no other reason than how nervous I would be coming face to face with the supernatural for the first time.

When had I gotten it? I can’t really remember when it’d shown up. I hadn’t put it on my desk, I know that much. Which means one of my parents had put it there.

Well, that brought an easy solution. I’m pretty sure that it hadn’t been given to them directly. If either of my parents had seen the naked girls on it, I never would have seen it. And it had been crumpled when I found it...

I quickly dart downstairs and find my mother doing some form of work at the kitchen table. A quick interrogation later, which amuses mom greatly, I find out that she had pried it out of my hand after bringing me home from the school shooting. Since I’d held onto it so hard she had put it on my desk just in case it was important.

I’m frowning hard as I clomp my way back up the stairs. I don’t remember getting handed the thing, or finding it on the ground, I don’t think. So where...?

I shudder in dread as I try to recall that day, my thoughts shying away from the event almost on instinct.

I shake my head. No, I can’t just keep avoiding this. No matter how much I want to. At some point during that day I’d gotten a devil flier, and I need to know how.

I flop down on my bed, straightening myself out, so that I’ll be comfortable if this took a while. I’d never really stopped meditating as I grew older. I just did it less with other things to occupy myself with, but it’s still the last thing I do every night before I go to sleep. Every night I can manage it anyway. Hopefully, several years of doing nothing but meditating and several more years of practice on top of that will help me now.

Now, start at the beginning.

I remember getting up that morning and doing my morning stretching and exercises. I remember breakfast and my parents sniping at each other over who was going to take me to what classes that week.

I remember the car ride to school.

I remember my first class, and my second.

I remember during my third class there was a sound. A gunshot? No it was... I shudder in dread.

There. 

My eyes pop open, and I’m breathing hard. Right there is where I start having problems. So that’s where I’ll begin.

Calming my breathing, I settle in. My body falls into familiar rhythms, and I feed all extraneous thought and emotion into the image of a candle flame, until all that’s left is what I want to focus on.

###

I sat at my desk towards the back of the room, the only elementary schooler taking notes. I had thought that school might be boring, having done all of this before. But really how much does anybody remember from when they were eight years old? I certainly knew the material, but at least part of that was because of how simple that material was. The review would help when I got to say, high school math. I didn’t really remember any math from high school forward. Maybe I’d do better this second time...

My thoughts were interrupted.

By an alarm?

No...

A gunshot?

A roar.

My thoughts were interrupted by a howling roar. I blinked, looking up and towards the windows where the sound had come from. The room was silent for a moment, our teacher hesitating as we all tried to identify the unfamiliar sound.

We probably would have turned back to our lesson after another moment of silence. Instead the roar came again, this time accompanied by numerous explosions. We all paused and several of my classmates started to stand up to get a better look out the windows. The teacher started to raise his voice to call the class back to attention.

Then something huge crashed through the wall and smeared the teacher along the floor.

It was misshapen. Its legs bent in odd ways, as though they hadn’t yet decided what kind of legs to be. They were welded awkwardly to a serpentine body, it’s tail splitting into many. It looked like countless writhing snakes, each tipped with a crude bone blade or hook. Its head was decidedly toad like, save for the chameleon like horns on its face. One eye bulged outwards. The other eye was sunken deep under one of its horns and a ridge of exposed bone.

It moved with a speed unnatural to something that big and awkwardly put together. Moments after it landed on our math teacher it was on its feet again, its scales utterly indifferent to the impact with the wall.

Or the floor.

Or our teacher.

“Young souls.” Its voice was a horrible rasping sound, layered dissonant tones that somehow grated together just right to produce speech. Its bulging eye rolled around the room before settling, its mouth cracked open filled with nothing but a slimy pink mass.

For some reason I thought of the Discovery Channel.

Without thinking, I flung myself into the boy standing next to me, still frozen from all that had happened in the last few seconds. Both of us hit the ground just in time as, with a crack, something flew over us. My efforts to save my classmates proved futile. The sound of a wet impact and bones breaking accompanied a short scream. The crunching sound that filled the silent room only moments after the thing’s tongue retracted showed that it had gotten one of us in spite of my efforts.

“Yessss. This will give me the power I need,” it wheezed. Whatever mechanism it used for speech clearly didn’t involve its mouth, as that was still occupied with the child it was eating. “Why we stopped eating you morsels, I’ll never know.”

That protruding eye rolled again, searching for another target. Before it could find one, though, another figure charged through the hole in the wall. This one, while still large, was only eight feet or so tall to the monster’s twelve or more, and was armed with heavy metal gauntlets. What really caught my eye, though, was the figure's bull head.

A fucking minotaur.

The classical Greek monster hit what had to have been a stray devil like a runaway train, sending them both out of the room through another wall. Screams began to fill the air as people caught up with what was happening. My own class either stayed where they were in shock, or collapsed in tears. I simply stared wide eyed. Nothing I’d seen in my last life had prepared me for the reality of what had just happened in front of me.

And that voice...

I shook my head, refocusing. I was going to do something very stupid, but I needed to have a clearer idea of what I was getting myself into. Of what I wanted to someday cower in fear of me. So I watched as several more figures charged along the trail left by the stray and minotaur, and got ready to try and follow them.

The next one through was short, and almost as wide as he was tall. A long braided beard was tucked into a belt wrapped around his heavy plate armor. In his hands he carried a hammer almost as big as he was, and on his back was an axe, at least as big.

Following him came a pair of blurs that moved faster than my eye could follow.

Behind them came a group of four. A tall man that I suspect some would call handsome, dressed in fine leather armor and carrying a rapier that crackled with lightning. Next to him was a woman in an elegant white kimono, with pale skin, white hair, and leaving a trail of frost in her wake. Flanking them one step behind was a dark skinned woman wearing what looked like a whole seal skin, and a young girl floating along perched on a pestle and carrying a god damned mortar! Something I really didn’t want to think about too hard.

This was a devil with a full peerage hunting a stray! I bet the pawns were trying to hem the literally damned thing in, or form a perimeter.

As the four of them moved through our classroom, the one wearing the seal skin paused looking us over, “My King?” she called.

The rest paused and the man turned back to her, “What?” He sounded impatient.

“What should we do about the children?” she asked, waving towards us.

Oh, I did not like the sound of that.

They were all looking at each other, so I took the opportunity to move on my fingertips and toes as quietly as I could towards the back of the classroom where there was a door into a storeroom. A storeroom which also had a door into the hallway that the minotaur and the stray would have ended up in by going through that wall.

The man glanced at us along with the rest and I dropped where I was as soon as they started to turn in my direction. I held my breath, I was almost there, but if one of them saw me trying to escape...

The pale woman, who I was pretty sure was the queen piece, glanced in my direction for a moment. She might have seen something, but she didn’t say anything, so I decided not to worry about it.

After looking us over for a moment he turned to the rest of them again, dismissing us, “Put them to sleep, we’ll modify their memories when we’re done.”

I was glad that I’d started moving as soon as they’d looked away, because I only just had time to throw myself through the door I was heading for, before the room was filled with a soft blue light. Even only exposed to it from the crack under the door, I wavered for a moment.

The floor was remarkably comfortable really.

A self administered vicious pinch to my arm helped me shake off the edges of the sleep spell. Pulling myself back to my feet, I crept to the door into the hallway and peeked through. The four of them were just exiting the hallway, following the path of destruction that the stray, and what I was willing to bet was a rook, had caused.

As soon as they were out of sight I sprinted softly down the hall to the edge of the broken hole in the wall. Leaning my head around the edge of the hole, I looked down the path of destruction the pair of devils had left. It traveled through three more classrooms and another hallway before exiting the school building the same way they entered it. Leaving them in the playground behind the school.

I moved carefully through the classrooms trying not to make noise. As I did though, I couldn’t help but take in the damage. The walls destroyed were obvious, but the rest...

There were kids under the rubble from where the fighting devils had burst through the wall. One girl sat on the ground, eyes wide in shock. Her leg was bent forward at almost a right angle at the thigh, the rest of her leg crushed.

I think she’d been stepped on.

There were more than a few bloody smears on the floor or walls like what had been left of our math teacher. I tried as hard as I could to not look at them, but I registered that they were there all the same.

When I reached the end of the new tunnel through the school, I had to take a moment and empty my stomach into the bushes. This was exactly what I’d been afraid of when I woke up here that first day in the hospital.

Sure the devils in the anime made a point of how nice they were, but that they made such a point of it implied that other devils weren’t. Most of them probably weren’t, given how proud the Gremory were of being nice. It was a point of pride how different they were.

The fight was still going on when I caught up. They had moved from the playground equipment, leaving it totaled in their wake, to the open field where phys-ed classes happened. I crept closer, all the while wondering where my self preservation instinct had gone. A tree provided the best cover I could find, which wasn’t saying much.

In the field, the battle raged on. The minotaur stayed in the stray’s face, trying to keep the monster’s attention like a good tank. The other rook, a dwarf I was pretty sure, spent more time hitting the ground than the monster. Of course, every time he did, the ground shook, sending the stray off balance as it’s mismatched legs scrambled to keep itself upright. The other devils seemed to have no problems with the tremors, but I only stayed standing by clinging to my tree.

The two knights, one a horse with a burning mane, hooves, and tail, the other some sort of living shadow, harried the sides of the stray, distracting it at the best moments. Though they seemed incapable of penetrating the thing's scales.

The two bishops and the ice woman, who I had pegged as the queen, were working on something together. It involved a lot of spell circles and some intense concentration. Through all of this, the King just sort of posed off to the side with a very smug look on his face.

Only a few moments later the magic users finished what they were doing and, as one, turned and gestured at the stray. Water welled up from the ground turning the field into a muddy swamp. At the same time vines grew like a time lapse video up the monster’s legs, winding around its body and then pulling it down into the muck. No sooner was it thoroughly embedded in the mud, than the entire mess froze over, leaving the stray trapped.

The rest of the peerage had cleared the area as soon as the ground started to dampen. Now they waited off to the side as their King strolled forward, his cloak flapping dramatically in the nonexistent breeze as he performed showy flourishes with his still sparking rapier.

Who the fuck was he showing off to?

Not his peerage certainly. The rooks never took their eyes off the stray, and the pawns weren’t here. The bishops just looked bored, and the queen actually seemed to be rolling her eyes. I suppose it could have been the knights, but neither of them had facial expressions as far as I could tell. So who knew?

“Well now, beast!” He sounded like something out of an eighties superhero cartoon, “You are now well and truly caught! By my cunning plans...” Oh god. He’s monologuing. This guy's peerage is way more competent than he is. I wonder where he got them? The fact they hadn’t collectively turned him in for a better model just reaffirmed my determination to never find myself trapped in a peerage. “Well monster? Have you anything to say for yourself before justice is done?”

The stray eyed the devil in front of it, then... croaked? Ribited? It’s throat puffed up, and it let out a sound that resembled the noise a frog makes the same way a blast furnace resembles a candle. The sound rippled through the air, producing a visible shock wave that sent all the devils flying and shattered the ice it was trapped in, along with my tree. I was peppered with shards of wood and knocked from my feet, landing on my back and hearing nothing but a high pitched whine. My entire front felt bruised, and I was covered in scratches and scrapes from the wooden shrapnel.

Yet all I could think of at that moment was mom lecturing me about ruining another shirt.

“Young souls.” And that fucking voice was clearly audible anyway. It took me a moment to figure out who the beast had to be referring to through the ringing in my head. By the time I realized I should be running it was already too late. Free from the ice it sprinted at me, its gait an odd stumbling thing with it’s mismatched legs, and it still moved faster than I could really react.

By the time I knew what was happening it was already looming over me. It twisted its head sideways and leaned down to snap me up in a single bite. Panicking, I did the only thing I could think of.

I punched it as hard as I could right in its bulging eye.

It snapped its head back. I didn’t really have the strength to hurt it, but a poke in the eye is a poke in the eye. As it turned out, I didn’t really need to do anything more. Before it could recover the minotaur hit it in a full charge. The rook hit the thing right in the middle and took it with him as he continued to charge, until a few yards further on, he rammed it into the ground hard enough to send up an explosion of dirt. The second it held still for even a moment, a six foot long spike of ice flew over me like a ballista bolt and took the stray right in the neck.

It thrashed and bled as the minotaur held it down. The wound in its neck evidently kept it from croaking again. Then the flaming horse was there dropping off the dwarf, who ended the monster by using his large axe to take its head off.

I stared wide eyed at the dead stray. The entire event was humbling.

I knew that I had a long way to go before I could throw down with even the weakest supernaturals. I knew I probably wouldn’t be able to do that much until I got some magic of my own, given the massive gulf in base physical stats.

But knowing that, and seeing a rook shake the ground with a hit...

Or a knight move faster than the eye could follow...

Or see ice come out of nowhere and used as a god damned siege weapon.

I was glad that nobody had called down a lightning bolt out of the clear sky. I wasn’t sure I could have handled an artillery strike from god on top of everything else right now. Though given the one floating around on the pestle, I was kind of assuming that they just didn’t feel the need.

I was brought out of my stunned state by the arrival of the bishop wearing the seal skin. She tried to say something to me. But when I just stared blankly at her, she knelt and reached forward to cup my ears. I felt water for a moment, and then there was a pop and the world had sound again.

“There you go, my Queen. She can hear again. I didn’t heal anything else as that would take more time,” the bishop said, looking up and to the side. I followed her gaze and found that I’d somehow missed the ice lady standing right next to us.

Was I in shock? I think I was in shock.

“Thank you, Madalyn,” the queen said, and knelt down next to me as the bishop stood up and left to go do... whatever she was supposed to. “Why did you follow us, child?” Her voice was gentle and she actually looked concerned.

“Ummm...” I blinked at her, still stunned. She was really pretty. Don’t say that, “I wanted to see what happened.” The truth, if simplified almost out of recognition.

She gave me a look. The same look my mother gave me when I did something she thought was stupid. Usually in the pursuit of moving my training forward faster. So, pretty much like this actually, “That was very foolish.”

“Yeah, I got that about the time the tree exploded,” I told her as I tried to sit up. God damn it mouth, don’t smart off at the pretty lady that can make us a popsicle until we can make her work for it.

Holy fuck, I hurt.

After a moment she decided to help and propped me up against what was left of my tree so I could stay sitting upright. Her hands radiated a kind of soothing cold that actually numbed some of my pain.

She tried to look stern, but the way her lips were twitching made me think she found me amusing, “Well. Regardless of how wise the decision was, the way you went about it, especially having the presence of mind to strike the stray devil, was rather impressive.” She sighed then, “I suspect that you will continue to get yourself into trouble like this given half a chance.” Well, she wasn’t wrong. Getting into 'trouble like this’ was pretty much my life plan. “It would be a shame to waste such potential, and I find I like you. Here.” She reached into a sleeve and produced a sheet of paper, “Insurance. So you might get aid the next time you find yourself in over your head.”

I took the sheet of paper from her mostly on autopilot. My mind was still going over what I had seen, in a sort of stupefied fascination. Later, it would be to find things to help me focus my training, but for now stunned staring was all I could manage.

That lasted until I actually glanced at what I’d just been handed.

It was a devil flier. Arcane circle, naked girls and all. What was really important though, was that the circle was made of World Script.

My breath caught in my throat and I almost choked on air.

This! This is what I needed! If I could derive structure from this working piece of magic...!

“Yes.” I jumped and glanced up at the ice woman who was grimacing, “The decorations are more than slightly tacky, but sadly I had no say in designing them. And you are a bit younger than our normal clients, but even so...”

“My Queen!” The king was striding over looking less than happy, but was still talking in that dramatic eighties cartoon voice. His cloak was still dramatically fluttering as well, “Why do you waste your time on these worms?”

The Queen’s expression, formerly warm and slightly amused, turned flat in a blink. Her jaw clenched, she turned to the other devil, “My King.” I’ve never heard a voice that was literally frosty before, but I could actually see my breath in the air as the temperature dropped, “I was acquiring a new client and potential...”

“Let me take care of that for you,” he smarmed at her solicitously. He wasn’t actually listening to a word she... Wait, what did he mean take care of?

His hand gripped my chin roughly as my head was jerked around to look at him. The moment I met his gaze I knew I had made a mistake. My heart rate shot through the roof and my breathing sped up. The ice lady was saying something but all I could think was that I had to keep the flier. It was my key and I couldn’t lose it. I gripped the paper as hard as I could, even as the world went fuzzy and then faded away.

###

I jerk upright on my bed, sweating and hyperventilating. My eyes are unfocused and my hands tremble in fury.

They fucked with my head. They fucked with my head! They! Fucked! With! My! Head!

Everybody has a berserk button, and this is mine. I hate being manipulated in any fashion. But messing with my mind? Removing my free will?

I shriek in rage and slam my fist down onto my desk as hard as I can. Murder is clearly the only option. I’ll just have to set a trap with...

My attention is almost forcibly jerked to my desk where I still have my fist planted. My knuckles have split, spattering my homemade attempt at a World Script spell with my blood. From where my blood landed light spreads outward like ripples in a pond, faintly tracing the Script symbols and moving in chaotic patterns through what I had written. The light jumps and flickers along, until the sputtering light reaches my attempt at a Script to draw in ambient power, to make up for the magic I don’t have. Then the symbols flare brightly and the entire thing goes up like flash paper, just as my door slams open. My mother bursting into my room to see why I’m screaming.

She lectures me about lighting fires in my room and injuring myself. But honestly I’m not listening. Part of it is that I’m still quietly seething over what has been done to me. Fucked. With. My. Head! But mostly I’m thinking about what I’ve just learned.

So as mom shifts her tirade to why I have a piece of paper with an occult circle and naked girls on it, I suck on my bloody knuckles and smirk. I know how to activate the Script now and even from the few seconds of seeing how the light moved through my poor attempt I already had so many ideas on how to make it better.

Finally, goal one is making actual progress.


	5. Book 1 - Job Interviews

Age Fifteen

My opponent and I keep our eyes locked on each other. A blink, or even a glance away on either of our parts will result in instant punishment from the other. At some signal that I never consciously register, we both lunge forward.

I slap her jab downward and try to punch over the top of it with the same hand. My opponent isn’t sloppy enough for that to work though, so I meet a solid block instead. My straight hits the same block, and a dipped elbow catches my hook. I slip around her return straight and dance back, throwing out another jab just to keep her honest.

“So you're coming tonight.” Sarah says it like a fact, and it says something that I find the verbal battle more difficult than the physical one. More dangerous too.

“Sarah...” I most certainly do not whine, and then try to distract her by reengaging. She sweeps my push kick aside and tries to counter, which I slap offline as well, and fall onto my forward leg into a straight that actually lands. She, of course, punishes me for that victory by spinning with the blow and kneeing me in my exposed side before I can recover.

“Don’t ‘Sarah’ me.” She does my whine pretty well. Not that I do that, “You need more friends than just me.” She feints a wheel kick that turns into a push kick that I slip and use to dump her on her ass. I dive after her, turning the match into a grapple, “This will help with that.” She manages to get out as she fights to get me into her guard, while I lay across her body and try to lock something in on her opposite arm.

“The hell it will and the hell I do,” I grunt, as we squirm back and forth. “I’m happy as is, so why does everybody insist on changing things.” She manages to twist out from under me, and then dives on top of me in an effort to take my back. Lucky for me, spinning onto my back is a quicker action, and she ends up diving into my guard. I lock my ankles behind her back, get her in a plum hold, and begin to lightly slap her head. It’s what we do in practice instead of punching, as rapid, repeated blows to the side and back of the head tend to lose you sparring partners, “My social life isn’t broken. Stop trying to fix it.”

Sarah snorts and somehow manages to get an arm in the way of my slaps, pop the plum hold off the back of her head, and plant a knee in my thigh, forcing my guard open. Suddenly neither of us have the breath to keep arguing.

The two of us are pretty evenly matched, so our spars usually are either inconclusive or come down to points. Something that neither of us are very fond of. Her, because she wants a win, not a technicality. Me, because I’m trying to learn how to fight and points meant shit to a stray devil. Not that I’ve seen another one since that day when I was eight.

This is our second bout. She won the first one by knocking the wind out of me with a rising hook that somehow hits like a pile driver no matter how little effort she puts into it. When she actually drove the thing with muscle, I’ve seen her bounce heavy bags. I manage to take the second bout, though, with a soft technique that has her landing on her back hard enough that she just decided to lay there for a minute.

###

“I’ll see you when you're done with your interview!” Sarah says, as she tries to squeeze the life out of me. She is still a hugger. She waves at me, which I return, as she jogs down the street towards the bus, and moments later I’m alone on the sidewalk.

I take a deep breath and check myself over again. I’m wearing a nice blouse tucked into a pair of slacks and covered by a nice enough jacket. My hair is damp and twisted up into a bun, as I’d actually used the shower at the gym for a change. Normally I try to stay out of there because as it turns out, I do in fact still like girls. Changing rooms are just embarrassing for a lot of reasons.

My parents think that I’m going to an interview for my first job. In a way I am, but really what I’m doing is far more important. Goal four, get allies. The first step of getting allies is getting a reputation for being somebody that people want to ally with. For that reason, I once again find myself standing outside a martial arts class, looking at the front of the used/antique book store that I’ve looked at plenty, but haven’t set foot in since I was seven.

With another fortifying breath, I adjust my backpack and stride across the street. The door opens with the ring of a bell, revealing the entry area of the store looking exactly like I remember it. Open area leading to the stacks, bargain bin on the right, counter on the left, and... a goth girl only a few years older than me sitting behind it, reading a book.

The girl glances up from her book as I enter. “Gotta leave your bag with me, cutie,” she says with a smile, “Can’t let you take it with you into the stacks.”

I blink, “You know, that’s the second time you’ve told me almost exactly that.” I take the backpack off my shoulder, setting it on the counter.

Her smile gets even wider at that, “I'm surprised you remember me. You were quite little at the time. Did you find your magic?” Her tone is playful, and she’s clearly teasing me.

“I’m surprised you recognize me, like you said I was very small at the time. And actually,” I hesitate for a moment. She might or might not know about the supernatural, or she might not be willing to introduce me to her boss, or her boss might not be willing to help. I take a deep breath and force myself to calm down. I really don’t have very many options. My only ins with the supernatural are a devil flyer I really don’t want to use and this book shop. It really isn’t a very hard choice, “that’s what I was hoping to talk to somebody here about. I don’t suppose that your boss or the owner is in?”

Her expression immediately becomes more withdrawn and wary. “That would depend on who you represent, and what that conversation would be about.” I don’t miss that one of her hands has slipped under the counter.

I try not to show how much my heartbeat has just sped up. I’m sure I feel a bead of sweat rolling down the back of my neck though, so I’m not sure how well I do. “I don’t represent anybody,” I say levelly, not moving my gaze away from her, and I just hope she isn’t some supernatural that would take that as a challenge. I’m sure she is something, she doesn’t look like she’s aged a day, but non-hostile would be nice. “And mostly I was hoping that they could help put me in touch with some people.”

She blinks, the suspicion fading some and being replaced by growing surprise, “Who told you to come here, then?”

“Nobody,” I sigh. I have a feeling I know where this is going, and it’s going to be embarrassing.

“Then how did you know to come here?” Suspicion is beginning to fade into incredulity, which is fair. My answer is completely ridiculous.

“Honestly?” I’m blushing, one hand half covering my face, “I take classes across the street, and happened to notice a large number of unusually beautiful, and improbably stacked women coming in and out of this place.”

She pauses for a moment, as if waiting for me to continue, “That’s it?” At my embarrassed nod she dissolves into hyena like laughter. I just groan and wait for her to get it out of her system.

Sooner than I would have expected she gets her laughter under control, “You have no idea who I am, do you?” I shake my head, “That either makes you stupidly brave, or confidently dumb. Which is it?”

I just sigh, “Neither.” She opens her mouth, probably to lay into me, given her frown, but I keep going, “It’s desperation. I literally have no contacts with the supernatural. Nothing. How would I find out who you are? I have nobody to ask. Nobody to tell me that I should ask. Until just now, I thought you were the teenage hired help. At some point, I’m going to have to take a risk on somebody I know nothing about. Might as well be the cute goth girl who was nice to me when I was little.” I finish with a shrug. At this point, I’m standing in front of her counter looking down and fidgeting with my hands behind my back. My blush has faded to a faint pink tone, and I’m only just avoiding tripping over my own tongue.

After a few moments of silence I look up and find the girl gazing at me with an expression that was fluctuating between sympathetic and impressed, “So you took the necessary risk.” The girl sighs and stands. She moves around the counter, flips the sign on the door to ‘Closed’ and waves me to follow her into the back, “All right. kid. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

###

The first time I’d been here I had tried to head straight into the back where the antique books are supposed to be kept. As a seven year old, I had unsurprisingly been denied entry, not that I had tried too hard. Now, though, the goth girl, who I really need a name for, leads me straight through. The door opens to a hallway that seems pretty standard, carpet, wood paneling. It looks like any other high end office building I’ve ever been in. There are a couple of doorways on either side of the hall and it ended in a T intersection.

My guide opens the second door on the right and lets me into a well appointed conference room. The large table seems to be a single, solid piece of wood and the chairs are rich leather. The back wall of the room is occupied by a glass case that was filled with books and other artifacts. I’m sure they would be very impressive if I had any idea what they are.

My host takes a chair, leaning back to study me. After a moment of intense scrutiny, during which I do my best not to squirm and to meet her gaze evenly, she speaks, sitting forward again, “All right kid, you want my help. What do you want, and why should I care?”

I try to suppress a wince at the blunt second question, though it’s pretty much what I expected. But first, “Um... since you brought it up earlier, who are you? I mean, I can’t just keep calling you ‘cute goth girl’.” Flattery might not get me anywhere, but it never hurts. Especially when it’s true.

She smirks at me and nods approvingly, “My name is Caitríona, but you can call me Cait, dealer in rare and arcane books. Now, your pitch?”

I take a deep breath. Right, presentation time, “What I want is contact with the supernatural community. Both for information, and to sell my magic.” If you can call it that, “Aside from having few options, I also figure that as a... as somebody who already sells to the supernatural community, you’d know who I should talk to.” I calm down as I talk, I can do this. As it turns out, those practice interviews with mom and Sarah actually help, even if the questions I’d practiced with have nothing to do with my actual interview. “As for what’s in it for you, I was thinking that I could offer you a commission, either a percentage of profits or service on the house, so to speak.”

Cait’s nodding along as I speak, an expression of polite interest never leaving her face, “All that sounds good, and even doable. Depending on what you have to offer, of course.” Of course. “So what magic did you figure out? What can you do with it, and why do you think, at fifteen, you’re good enough for it to be worth selling?”

“Well, in one sense I’m not sure. Not having anything to compare it to and all. I came with the assumption that I’d be making a demonstration, and then you’d tell me if I was wasting both of our time or not.” Cait nods, which makes me feel like a weight has just come off my chest. Now to deal with the other weights, “As for what I can do,” Another fortifying breath and I go for broke, “Basically anything.”

Cait stares at me in silence, before a single eyebrow creeps upwards, “Anything.” She has a remarkable dead pan.

I nod, “Anything. Within the limits of the time I have, the space available, and what I can figure out.”

“You’re going to need to explain that.” Cait leans forward and for the first time she really looks inhuman. Formerly pale skin gains a luminous shine. Her eyes glow, their blue color turning from a nice sky to something impossible. Her black painted lips pull back to expose unnaturally sharp teeth. Really, I’m starting to wonder if the goth look is actually makeup at all. A cool autumn breeze blows through the room, which is impressive since there are no windows and it’s late spring outside.

You know, in this moment, it occurs to me that if she decides that I am wasting her time, I might not get out of here.

I nod quickly and try to hide my trembling hands. Hurriedly reaching into my backpack, I pull out my Script dictionary and drop it onto the table with a thud. She leans forward to look at the book and makes a small sound of surprise, “You bought this from me.” I nod, “You actually got it to work?” She sounds doubtful, but I nod again, “What have you done?”

I swallow, “Um, I’ve set up wards around my house that work by intent.” That was tricky, the mailman was more than a little confused for a couple of weeks, “I’ve reinforced the structure of the house. Theoretically, it’ll be invulnerable until the script burns out.” I’d used paint in various places around the house to achieve the effect. Normally, I think, it would be limited by the amount of power I have to feed into the effect. With my Script to draw ambient power, it comes down to how much energy the paint can channel before it starts to boil, “I’ve set traps.” That racoon was never going to rummage through our trash again, scared the crap out of him, “Made things grow.” Explaining to mom where the new six foot tall rose bush had come from took some doing, “And once, called down lightning.” All of that and none of it really combat applicable. The lightning especially, until I figured out how to activate a Script from ‘over there’. Standing inches away from a lightning strike isn’t fun. Really cool though, once I could see again and my hearing recovered.

Cait began my recitation stoic and more than a little hostile. As I talk, though, she goes from hostile to incredulous, then to shocked, and finally settles on stunned. As I finish she just stares at me for a moment, once again looking like nothing more than a goth teen. Finally she shakes her head and makes a gesture with her off hand. My ears pop as something in the room changes. I look at her and she shrugs, “Truth spell. If you’d lied, you'd have glowed.”

“So does that mean you believe me?” I can’t take much more of these ups and downs. I’m already exhausted.

“It means I believe that you believe what you're telling me. But extraordinary claims and all that.” Cait stands and heads towards the back wall, opens one of the display cases and returns with a box. It’s made of wood and stone, and covered in what I think are Futhark runes. I examine the box for a moment before looking up at her in question. She just waves at the box, “Open it.”

The first thing I try is just opening the box. It doesn’t open when I try and really, I don’t expect it to. I just don’t want to be that person, the one that misses the obvious solution because I assume the answer has to be supernatural. I get a giggle from Cait though, so I take that as a win.

Right.

Open the magic box. I’ve never even thought of using my Script to pick locks! Probably because it’s never come up, but still!

I take a deep breath to center myself. Okay, start at the beginning. What do I know?

Magic box, locked with Norse runes.

...That’s it.

That’s also known as not nearly enough. So there’s the first problem.

I look up at her again, “Can I use this table? Or is there somewhere else you’d like me to work?” Cait just waves me on, so with a nod I get to work. I’ve found over the last seven years of working with Script that while almost anything would do, bone chalk works best for written Script.

Fishing a stick out of my backpack, I go to work. The first thing to do is an analysis Script. I realized pretty quickly that the more detail I put into the descriptions of what I want, the better the Script works. So I quickly worked out a general Script to tell me about things. The trick with it is limiting the information to what I want to know. The first time I tried it was on a random pebble. I knocked myself out with the headache brought on by having my brain filled with everything that could be known about the pebble right down to its subatomic structure and including its entire history. I was lucky that the piece of paper I’d written the Script on burned itself up ending it, or I might have seriously hurt myself.

Mom wasn’t thrilled to find me passed out on the floor, next to some ash, and bleeding from my nose. It's taken me a lot of fast talking to convince her that I wasn’t ‘on the drugs’.

Fortunately, I’ve had a lot of practice since then and I know how to limit the information now. In this case all I want to know is how the magic holding it closed works, and what it’s made from.

It takes maybe twenty minutes to draw the whole thing out, and I work pretty quickly. Which goes to show how many symbols are included in even the simplest Scripts. Not that anything is really ‘simple' in Script. Once the Script is finished, it takes the form of two circles. One I put the box in, that’s where the Script would look for what to scan. I sat myself down in the other, where the Script would dump the information into whatever brain was there.

With another quick look over it to make sure I haven’t missed anything, I start the next step. I pull the tiniest pen knife I could find and set it against my thumb. Before I can press though, I’m interrupted by Cait’s, “Really?”

Glancing up at her, I find her looking very amused at my tiny knife. I give a slightly embarrassed shrug, “It’s easy to carry without attracting attention, and is about as non-threatening as a sharp object can be.” She’s still smiling but waves me to keep going, so I nick my thumb, producing just enough blood to start the Script, and press it against the place where this Script’s story starts. Then I begin to sing, and as I sing light follows along the Script symbols keeping pace with me.

I’m a terrible singer, but it’s necessary, and I’ve found that Script responds better to singing than to chanting. So singing it is. This is why, for all the skill I’ve gained with the World Script, none of it would help me in a fight. Because if you want Script to work, you have to sing or chant along with what you write. On some level it makes sense to me, that for a story to mean or do anything it has to be told. Really, I have no clue why or how though, I just know that if you don’t have the verbal component the results are unpredictable and often explosive.

The song and the story finish and the knowledge floods into my mind. I quickly learn two things. First, the box is granite, and old granite at that, but otherwise there’s nothing special about the material. Second, I still know nothing about magic.

What I see when the Script tells me about the runes is a mess of colored lines and shining auras that layer over, and wrap around the box. What any of that means, however, I have no clue. I lean back on my hands and study the box again. I need to know what the hell those runes are doing to the box!

...

I’m an idiot.

I look up to where Cait is still watching me with great interest, “I don’t suppose I could consult a reference?”

Cait looks amused but nods, “Sure.”

I scoot off of the table and dash back down the hallway into the main store again. It takes me only a few minutes to find what I’m after. When I return, it’s with the rune book that I’d looked at but decided against the last time I was here. Cait looks surprised and still amused, but I just plop myself down in a chair, pull the box close, and start looking up the runes.

One thing that working with Script and its dictionary taught me was to look things up quickly, and patience when ‘quickly' turns out to be relative. And it is. It takes me almost half an hour to find all the runes with any degree of certainty. I can’t do what has been done to the box, not with runes anyway, but I don’t really need to. What I can do is find the meanings of individual runes and make some educated guesses.

There are runes for protection, resistance, locking, and a couple of other things that added together, keep anything from even touching the box. There doesn't seem to be anything done to the box itself, however. That matches up with what my analysis Script had shown, auras and lines of color wrapped around the box, but nothing actually entered it’s substance.

Which... does suggest a solution, “Um... Is the box itself important? Or do you just want what’s inside of it?”

Cait frowns, watching me. She had retaken her chair and seems content enough just to watch me work, “I said that I wanted you to open it. Destroying the box is not opening it.”

I hiss under my breath and look back at the box. After a moments thought I look back up at her, “So your only objection is that I need to open the box?” I ask carefully, “Not that the box might be damaged?”

The supernatural woman narrows her eyes at me, but slowly nods, “I don’t see how you’re going to get at the box through the magic to damage it, but I suppose that minimal damage would be acceptable.”

I nod. Plan set, I pull my Script dictionary and set to work. I take my time finding the symbols that I want, as I’m playing with something that I’ve never really considered touching before. Once I’ve found the exact symbols I want, I pull a washcloth and squirt bottle out of my backpack and set to cleaning the last Script off the table. Once I’m sure that my work surface is clean, I grab my bone chalk again and set to writing out my new Script.

Unlike my analysis Script, what I’m working on now is mostly new. Not just new symbols, but something I’ve never tried before, so I keep having to go back and correct sections as I get further. Twice I even have to start over from the beginning as I realize that a mistake earlier has changed the context of what I’m trying to describe later. All the while I practice the pronunciation of the new symbols. It takes several hours before I’m finished, and in spite of how big the table is, the Script almost didn’t fit.

The box went in its place, a final check, and I’m ready to go. I bite my thumb to start it bleeding again, press it to its place and begin to sing again. The Script lights up as before, following my song. When it finishes, I start again from the beginning. The glow brightens as I go through it again. Then again. On the third pass through the Script, its light brightening each time, the box begins to be affected. Grains of sand and dust begin falling from the front of the box. Slowly, as I continue to sing through the Script again, the stone around the locking rune begins to dissolve. Finally, on the ninth time through the Script, the last bit of the locking rune finally vanishes and I stop singing.

I lean forward, and with a finger, flip the lid of the box open, the force that held it shut gone. With a groan I drop back into a chair, exhausted, and look up at Cait, “Well?”

Cait looks mildly stunned. She leans forward and draws a finger across one of the lines of the Script. The once white symbols have turned black, the power running through the chalk having burned it away, and in the process burned the symbol into the table.

I wince and start to open my mouth to apologize, but she waves me off before I can even begin to croak out a sound, “Well I have to say I’m impressed. What did you do? I’ve thrown everything I can think of at that box and never gotten anywhere.”

I sigh, try to talk, choke, try again, and manage to scrape out some words this time, “I uh... I didn’t understand the magic, but it didn’t really matter as none of it affected the box itself. The runes created a shell around it that prevented harm, but that’s it. The only exception was the locking rune. So I very carefully targeted the stone that made up the rune and, uh, intensified entropy on it. So it decayed until the rune was gone. Once the rune was gone, the box wasn’t locked any more so...” I wave a hand at the stone box on the table.

Cait smiles broadly, “Like I said, I’m impressed. I think we can work something out.”

I sit upright in spite of my exhaustion, “Thank y...” Cait holds up a hand stopping me mid-word.

“Before you finish that, I should introduce myself again. Like I said, my name is Caitríona, or Cait. However in the past, I was known as Caitsidhe.”

I blink, then blink again as my tired brain runs through that and catches the import, “Sidhe? As in Fae? Don’t thank them, rings of toadstools, that kind of fae?”

Cait nods with a grin, “You're rather knowledgeable for somebody that has no contact with the supernatural.”

I shrug, “I have no contacts, but I clearly know the supernatural is there. I don’t know how much is reliable, but I studied whatever I could.” It’s true, even if the two statements aren’t actually connected. Most of my mythological studies happened in my old life, so I really wasn’t sure if any of it was accurate.

“Well then. I think we can help each other. I’ll take ten percent or a single task like this for every job I get you,” Cait says, leaning forward, “It’ll take a couple of days to find some people, and you’ll probably have to do the first few for free, or at least a reduced price. Just so you have some people to vouch that you know what you're doing. It’ll help you build a reputation.”

I smile at the last word. Reputation is exactly what I’m after, the money is secondary. Seeing that we’re done, I quickly repack my bag, taking special care with my Script dictionary. Finishing, I offer my hand, and smile more when she takes it, “T... I’m grea... I’m glad we could work something out, and very happy you were willing to hear me out and help.”

Cait’s smile got even bigger, “I, as well...?”

She trails off and it takes me a moment to realize that through all of this I’d never actually given her my name, “Ericka Rhostana.”

“Ericka. Rhostana.” She lets go of my hand and leads me towards the front of the store, “I think your name will end up being one to watch for. Just do me a favor and don’t join the devils.” Her face screws up in disgust, “And no matter what they say, don’t trust those Evil Pieces of theirs. Or their intentions.”

Were I somebody else I might have asked why, but I’ve seen a noble devil in action. And they’ll never convince me that Evil Pieces don’t plant some sort of control mechanism in the people they are used on. So I just nod in agreement, which seems to make her happy.

“Come back on Sunday and we’ll get started,” she says before ushering me out the door and shutting it behind me.

While I’d been inside for my interview the sun had gone down, leaving me to enjoy the late spring evening. Maybe I can just head straight home. I’m tired and Sarah, as much as I love her, is exhausting. Her friends are worse.

I idly take out my phone to turn the sound back on and discover that I’ve missed a few things. My mother had sent a message an hour ago to check in on how the interview was going. My dad sent a message saying that he would be available in the next hour to give me a ride two hours ago.

And Sarah has sent six messages and a picture of her pouting.

I sigh. That... Well I guess I have no choice really. I’m going to have to go to something infinitely more dangerous and terrifying than the supernatural job interview with a sidhe of the fae.

I’m going to a sleepover.

###

Sarah lives in a nice neighborhood in a well maintained house with two upper floors and a basement. Her mother is a nice woman who’s obsessed with gardening, and it shows. Even in the dark, as I move up the walk through the front garden, the sheer effort put into the landscaping is obvious.

Before I even reach the front step, the door is flung open and a familiar black haired missile takes me around the middle and lifts me into the air, “You came!” Sarah squeals, shaking me back and forth, “You weren’t responding to my texts so I thought you might have decided to ditch me and gone home!”

“I thought about it,” I tell her looking down, hanging somewhat limply as she continues to hold me up, arms wrapped around my hips. She looks up at me and starts pouting again, “Except that pout is hard to argue with.” I quirk an eyebrow at her, “Yes. That one. Now put me down.” Sarah giggles, sets me on my feet, and drags me into her house.

When we’d started high school we both stopped going to gymnastics. It’s not that we didn’t like it. It’s more that we were at the age where if we wanted to keep going to the same gym, everything was going to start being about competitions and getting ready for them. Neither of us are interested in that aspect of things so we found other places that would let us continue with what we did want without the aspects that we didn’t.

I found parkour. Not only is roof running a thrill, but it taught me how to climb. Parkour keeps me in shape the same way gymnastics had, and lets me keep a lot of the same skills when I’m just having fun with it, instead of actively going somewhere. I can also see it being a useful boost to my mobility in the future.

Sarah found cheerleading.

The rest of the girls are Sarah’s friends from the cheer squad and have been going strong for an hour or more already. Fortunately, I get there just in time for food. Pizza is devoured in huge quantities, movies are gathered, and all of us get changed for bed so we can lock ourselves in the basement until morning.

My sleepwear, when I bothered with any, are a pair of cotton shorts and a large t-shirt. The others... Well, I’m not sure if Sarah doesn’t know I’m gay. Knows I’m gay and is punishing me for something. Or knows I’m gay and trying to help. While my sleepwear tends towards loose and covering, these girls, while still comfortable, are clearly showing off and having some sort of competition. Tight t-shirts, well fitted flannel pants, tight barely there shorts, or just panties. It’s all I can do to keep my blush under control whenever I look at them, which I try not to do in any obvious fashion.

We have action movies, rom-coms, and horror films. The rest of the girls shriek and cling to each other during the jump scares. I, on the other hand, sit curled up on the other end of the couch, away from the pile. Since the stray devil, horror movies haven’t really done it for me. The fake stuff isn’t really scary after seeing the real thing. The human mind can’t really grasp exactly how horrifying the supernatural can be without seeing it first hand.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Sarah watching me, looking worried. I try to smile reassuringly at her, but that just seems to make her more concerned. How exactly she can look grumpy from under a pile of cute girls, I have no idea. Well, other than that she would care more if they were cute boys.

Eventually we take a break from the movies, and quickly the conversation devolves into the inevitable discussion about boys. I stage a tactical retreat to the far side of the room and try to lose myself in my sketchbook. I have nothing to contribute to that conversation. Honestly, some part of me is afraid that if I hang around, my orientation will come out. Then I’ll end up trapped in a room for the night with a group of irrationally paranoid, homophobic, teenage girls. Now that would make a scary horror movie. It would have a niche audience, but I certainly find the idea terrifying.

Unfortunately, Sarah refuses to let me hide in peace. She leaves the other girls to their discussion after a short while, and comes in my direction still looking concerned. I sigh as I see her head my way, and set my book aside.

Both Sarah and I have grown into the promise we’d shown when we first met. She as a teenager is devastatingly pretty and well on her way to beautiful. Shimmering waves of long black hair, deep blue eyes, a figure that curved in all the right places, with just the right amount of muscle tone. Really, I’m very glad that I met her as early as I had. Because if I had first encountered her after the Westermark cut off, I’d be incapacitated by the size of the crush I’d have on her. As it is, I could just appreciate the aesthetics and be glad she’s my friend.

If I keep telling myself that long enough I may even start to believe it.

I, on the other hand, am just as plain as I expected to be. The best I’d ever achieved as a child had been cute, and that was more about behavior than appearance. My brown, not quite auburn hair is shoulder length, and that’s only because I couldn’t convince mom to let me cut it shorter. My build takes after my father’s, all arms and legs, just with my mother’s height. I’m only saved from looking like I’m made out of toothpicks by the unreasonable amount of muscle I have for a fifteen year old girl. Which also does me no favors, I’ve been assured. My features are almost painfully plain, and while I know my size, I’ve never actually needed a bra.

Sarah opens the conversation in typical Sarah fashion by setting herself in my lap. Really glad for the Westermarck Effect. “So why are you pouting over here?” she asks, smiling at me.

I just glare at her. “I’m not pouting,” I tell her flatly.

“Hiding then.” Damn girl’s smile doesn’t waver in the least under my glare. Fear me, dammit!

“I’m not hiding either. I’m in plain view. I just don’t have anything to add to that conversation,” I say and wave a hand at where the other girls are still gossiping.

“Really? Nothing?” Sarah wheedles, “Nobody caught your eye? Come on, you can tell me!”

“Nobody. I keep myself pretty busy in case you haven’t noticed. I have little time for, and less interest in, boys.” I can’t quite hide all of the disgust I feel when I think about being ‘involved’ with one of the male gender.

“That’s what I’m worried about. You work yourself too hard.” I look up at Sarah to find that her smile has finally disappeared, “You need more friends. I’d say you need hobbies, but I’m well aware that the only time you take breaks is when you’re injured or when I make you. So you need more people who can make you take breaks.”

“I have hobbies!” I object, ignoring her comments about my schedule. She’s right, and we both know it, so I see no point in discussing it, “I draw, and...”

“Drawing isn’t a hobby,” Sarah interrupts me flatly, “I don’t know why it’s not, but you have the same look on your face when you're drawing that you do when we spar. And don’t try to claim that martial arts are a hobby for you, either.” She’s glaring at me now, which is something I’ve actually never seen before. Not pointed at me anyway. “Ericka, I’m worried about you. You work yourself constantly. If you're not training physically you're practicing something else. Even if what it is escapes me, I can see it. I don’t know what you’re afraid of,” she holds up a hand to silence me when I go to interrupt, “and I won't pry, right now, but you need to have some fun or I’m afraid that you’ll do something bad to yourself. Please just try to have some fun tonight? That was the whole reason I set this up. Please? For me?”

I blink up at her. She’d done this just so I’d stop training for an evening? I... really don’t know how to respond to that. With a sigh, I hug the irritating ravenette, “Fine. I’ll try to... to unwind a bit. Just for you.”

“Great!” she chirps, hugging me back, “besides, it’s not like you don’t actually have anything to contribute.” She looks at me conspiratorially and tightens her hold on me as I’m seized with the sudden urge to flee, “I’ve seen you watch Sandra. And I have it on good authority that Madison thinks you’re cute~.”

“What?!” I whisper-shriek and look up at Sarah wide eyed. Sandra hadn’t been invited, but Madison is right over there with the others. My face turns bright red.

My captor smirks at me, “What? You thought I didn’t know? Come on, I know you better than you know yourself.” Sometimes I worry that’s true, “So relax, I wouldn’t have invited anybody who would take your orientation badly. Come socialize some and you’ll see. Maybe you’ll make a friend, or even more~.” Sarah singsongs the last word and I frown up at her.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m prickly, anti-social, abrasive, and not nearly attractive enough to make up for it,” I tell Sarah flatly. The attitude is something that I actually cultivate deliberately, “Nobody’s going to have a crush on me.”

“That’s something else we’ll work on. You’re not nearly as unattractive as you seem to think you are.” It’s hard to argue with a girl that looks like Sarah while she’s sitting in your lap. I’m determined to try anyway. Just as soon as she let me get a word in, “If you’d just let me take you shopping we could give you a makeover,” Oh god, no, “and you’d get a girl in no time flat.” Sarah is just getting ready to start wheedling, a tactic against which my defense has historically been poor, when I’m saved by the rest of the sleepover.

“Sarah!” The aforementioned Madison calls from where the others are, “Cynthia is claiming she can do a freestanding handstand longer than the rest of us. We’re doing a contest, come on! Ericka can judge!”

Sarah looks down at me and raises an eyebrow. I hesitate for a moment, then shake my head, pushing her off my lap as I stand, “Judge hell. I’m going to have to teach you lot how to hold a handstand.” Sarah whoops and bounces off the floor to lead me back over to the group.

Maybe some fun wouldn’t go amiss. Really, I do have fun with my training. There’s no way I would have been able to keep it up for as long as I have, at the intensity I have, if I didn’t enjoy it. But some more conventional fun might be good too. I don’t want to be completely clueless when I finally get to the point where I can slow down some. So I’ll give this a try.

However, no matter what Sarah thinks, I’m not going to be ending the night with any new friends, and especially no girlfriend. I’m still planning to leave this reality just as soon as I figure out how, and I’ll probably never be coming back. I don’t need to get attached to people I’m just going to leave.

I already have no idea how I’m going to leave Sarah or my parents, and that’s hard enough.

###

Sunday finds me, for the third time, standing in front of the nameless book store. I’ve spent most of the day before looking up everything I could on Caitsidhe. Or cat sith, nothing to do with Star Wars, and found depressingly little. There’s a quick almost... tongue twister, about the death of the king of cats, and some references to them being both protectors and breath eaters. On Sidhe in general, there’s somewhat more. Basically, I’m glad to have settled on a price for Cait’s services before we ended the negotiations two nights ago, because owing a debt to fae of any kind is just a terrible idea.

Otherwise, there’s a lot of conflicting material. Cold iron is the general solution to fae, unless they’re a red cap, or a brownie, or... it’s generally just better to look up whatever you’re dealing with specifically. Assuming that anything I found on the internet is at all accurate.

Which isn’t something I’m willing to take on faith, even beyond the normal skepticism of internet sources.

Cait meets me at the door before I can even think about knocking and waves me in, immediately leading me towards the back. “So I worked fast and found three jobs. You’ll have to do them for free to prove to the community that you know your stuff. Lucky for you, they're still paying me a finders fee so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Okay,” I nod along as she leads me into the back hallway, and to the first door on the left this time. Inside is a dirt floor and a ring of mushrooms. I stop dead upon seeing it and look askance at Cait.

The cat fae smirks at me in a highly appropriate fashion and nods approvingly, “Yes that’s what you think it is, but don’t worry about it. You’re a guest, as long as you stick with me, go where I go, and stay on the path you’ll be fine.”

That sounds like a lot of caveats, “I don’t suppose I can just hang onto you to make this easier?”

“What, like holding my hand?” Her smile is positively wicked now.

I roll my eyes, “Or hang onto the back of your shirt, or your belt, or you could grow a tail and I can hang onto that.”

“You want to hang onto my tail?” She draws herself up looking affronted.

I raise an eyebrow at her, “Isn’t that what the spot on the end of cat tails are for? So kittens have something easy to follow when being led places?”

“Are you calling yourself my kitten?” She’s grinning at me again. The woman has more different kinds of smiles than I’ve ever seen on a single person before. This one seems almost pleased.

“You are older than I am,” I point out. I figure the thing about women and age doesn’t matter when the woman in question doesn’t age, and age only brings power. I’m still not asking though, I’m not quite that confident.

“True enough.” With that, Cait grabs my shoulder and pushes me so that we step together into the faerie trode.

###

The moment I cross the ring of mushrooms, I’m somewhere else. There’s no real transition I can describe, one moment I’m in a dirt floored room in the back of a bookstore, then next I’m... somewhere else.

Beneath my feet is a path of shimmering silver sand. The path is wide enough for two people to walk shoulder to shoulder if they’re friendly, and the sand of the path makes a chiming sound as I step on it. Cait, of course, doesn’t make any sound at all. On either side of the path I can just make out tree trunks and branches overhead. The trunks of the trees are black and shiny like obsidian, and the few leaves I can see are bright like emeralds. Past the trees, the sky is too black and the stars too bright. Surrounding us is a thick white fog. Nothing ahead of us, or behind, or past the very edges of the closest tree trunks, but swirling white mist. I can’t even see the path past a foot or so.

Almost on reflex my hand snaps up and grips the back of Cait’s shirt. It would be too easy for the path to turn out from under my feet without my noticing until it’s already too late. I don’t really want to know what would happen to me then.

Cait looks over at me and smiles gently. A moment later, a black tail with an orange tip smacks me in the face. Cait laughs at my expression, but I grab onto the offered appendage without a word.

The moment I have a good grip Cait starts ahead, and I dutifully follow behind. At first I try to watch my surroundings, try to see past the trees, or watch where the path goes. What I see, when I see anything through the mist, is a nonsensical Escheresque nightmare that makes my head pound and my stomach churn.

I quickly decide that my feet are the most interesting thing out here, “So how can you tell where we’re going?” I ask after an indeterminate amount of time.

I think she looks back at me, but I refuse to look up to check. After a moment though, Cait answers, “Well, I don’t have trouble seeing like you do. The Lords and Ladies of Faerie don’t like mortal guests. So there are illusions laid everywhere that affect only them.”

“So to you, it’s a clear day and a straight road?”

“Well, I don’t see the mist, and I’m used to the geometry here.”

Suddenly I’m glad that I can’t see more. The silence is getting to me though, so I keep talking, “What are these jobs you found for me?”

“First, you’re going to grow some trees. There’s a grove of dryads that are trying to set up a new grove that they can move to, but that can take anywhere from decades to centuries depending on the tree.”

“But I can speed up the growth so that they have what they need now,” I nod. The rapid growth Script isn’t hard, and won't have to be adjusted much for trees instead of rose bushes. But, “I’m going to need something to write on,” I tell her.

Cait just nods and keeps going, “Second, there’s an orphanage that needs you to get rid of a Tulpa.”

“A what?” That’s one I’ve never heard of before.

“A Tulpa. It’s a spirit made by collective, focused thought or belief,” Cait explains. “Most boogeymen are Tulpa, and that’s probably what you’re dealing with here.” How the fuck? This one would take some thought. Spirits aren’t anything that I’ve dealt with before and haven’t really thought of dealing with before. Not to mention, how do you get rid of something that's dreamed up and so can probably be dreamed up again?

Before I can get too lost in trying to figure Tulpa out, Cait continues, “Third is a mage society that wants help securing a vault.” Well, that would be easy enough at least.

Some bit of genre savviness warns me that I might have just screwed myself with that thought.

###

We reemerge into the real world, stepping out of another ring of mushrooms, this one somewhere in the middle of a redwood forest. Ferns and duff cover the ground and there are no signs of civilization as far as the eye can see.

Which granted, with the dense forest, isn’t very far.

It occurs to me at that moment that I have no idea where I am. Nor do I have a way to get home without Cait. That’s something I’ll have to fix as quickly as possible. Though the only way I can think of to teleport with Script would be very slow to write out, and easy to get wrong. Something else to work on then, in my copious free time.

It’s another twenty minute hike to the dryad grove.

The dryads are waiting for us when we arrive, six of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Their skin is the color of redwood, their hair is a deep green, their eyes a tawny yellow, and rose red lips stretch in welcoming smiles. Devils might be lush seductresses, but the dryads are svelte and athletic natural beauties. Which honestly has always appealed to me more.

And they’re entirely naked.

I don’t know why this surprises me, but it does.

They descend on Cait and me in a giggling swarm of welcoming hugs and introductions. Getting hugged by a dryad is something that I’ll think about later. By myself. Anyone thinking of them as simple fertility spirits, or taking their giggling and enthusiasm for stupidity, is in for a nasty surprise, however. I can see it in their eyes, sharp and watching. They’re nature spirits, and anybody who thinks nature is all sweetness and light has never seen National Geographic. They are as much predator as prey.

After the dryads finish welcoming us, they show us the grove to be, a large clearing in the tree cover filled with ferns and dappled sunlight. In the center of the clearing is a massive redwood stump. Eight feet tall and maybe twelve feet across. The clearing had apparently been made when this tree had been cut down. Arranged in an almost perfect circle around the stump are twelve little redwood saplings.

This might be easier than I thought.

I had thought that either I’d have to struggle to find a way to target all the trees to be grown at once, or have to redo the Script as many times as it took to grow each tree individually. But I grew up in California and so know more than I really need to about redwoods. Some species of redwood, instead of reproducing by seed, spread by sending out runner roots. Roots that after they travel a certain distance sprout upwards into a brand new tree. Redwoods usually do this when a larger tree dies. Like when it has been cut down. So all the new saplings are still connected to each other through the central stump, which will make targeting them all at once much easier.

Finishing the brief tour I turn to the girls, fighting to keep my gaze above their necks, and ask the important question, “So what exactly do you want me to do?”

“Well,” One, I think her name was Edinia, presses her athletic form into my side “we can’t inhabit trees until they reach a certain size. Caitríona said you could make things... grow quickly.” Ooookay. This is going to be a problem. How the hell did she make that innuendo? I don’t even know what she’s insinuating and I’m already red.

And now they’re giggling at me.

I regain my composure by force of will, “I’ve had success with rose bushes before, but I don’t see much trouble adjusting to growing trees.” I manage to keep my voice steady even as they celebrate by bouncing up and down clapping their hands, “It’s... um... the best place for me to do this would be the central stump,” I say pointing and struggling to look in that direction, “if the top is smooth?”

They nod, Edinia especially rubbing her cheek against my shoulder, her very red lips spread into a smile, “Oh yes,” she coos, “once we heard what you could do for us,” Script, she’s talking about my Script, “we made sure you’d have a good place to work from.”

I wrench my focus away from the dryad cuddled up to me with a swallow, and nod, “Right. I’d best get to work then.”

I step away from Edinia, who responds with a pout, and do just that. Step one is measuring the distance from the center of the stump to each of the saplings and recording the distance for reference later. This takes help from a dryad, one of them holding my measuring tape in place while I hold the other end to the saplings.

Once that’s done, it takes some time with the Script Dictionary to figure out how to adjust my grow Script to work on redwoods. This takes more time than it really should have as the dryads insist on being involved in every detail, because they want to shape the growth of their trees slightly. That part actually helps, as they know their trees very well and remind me of several things I would have missed. They also tell me how the absent dryads of their grove would like their trees. Apparently about half of them have stayed behind to protect the old grove until they have someplace else to move to.

What doesn’t help is that they insist on draping themselves all over me as we work. One pressing into my back, one leaning into each of my sides, and one snuggles into my lap. The rest are sitting close and leaning closer, frequently reaching out to touch me with hands, or laying their heads on whatever bit of me is available.

“You’re very tense,” the dryad at my back says, and starts rubbing my shoulders. My eyes unfocus at the impromptu massage, “Too tense, you should let us help you relax.” I’ve actually started to agree when what she’s probably implying registers.

I blush and stammer before freeing myself, not at all reluctantly, from the dryad pile. An action that earned much vocal disapproval and pouting. I get on top of the stump easily enough. A running start and, parkour for the win, find myself on the smooth almost polished surface of the top of the stump. Pacing out the area I have to work with and planning out how things will lay only takes another few minutes. Then finally, I can get started on the Script itself.

Bone chalk goes onto the wood like a dream, and I quickly lose myself in my writing. I identify the trees to be affected by distance from the central point, and how they are still connected to the stump I’m using for my work. How each tree is supposed to be, what it’s to look like and how much it’s to grow are all described to each individual dryad’s specification. I mark out a place for me to stand without interfering, the Script to draw in energy, and end with where the Script story begins.

A last check over everything and I’m ready. A nick to my thumb and pressing it to the start, I begin to sing. And as I sing, the trees grow. The trunks widen and grow upwards. Branches sprout and stretch out from the trunks, bark thickens and toughens. Roots, something I would have forgotten about completely if not for the dryads, snake downwards. All of this is powered by the ambient energy drawn through my Script, so all the nutrients in the soil are still waiting there to be used. As the trees reach their full growth, their branches start to meet each other over my head, my song and Script weaving them together to make a roof over the open center of the clearing.

I’m panting as I finish. Rocking back on my heels I set my hands on my hips and turn to take in the results of my work.

Only to be taken off my feet as I’m tackled by a horde of grateful dryads. I’m laughing and about to shoo them off me, only for soft lips to crash into mine. I manage to push the first dryad away to try and escape, or apologize, or ask for more, I’m not really sure, but the first dryad’s lips and tongue are quickly replaced by another’s. I might have lost some time at that point, and probably would have been there a lot longer if not for Cait pulling me out from under them.

All I really remember of my trip back to the faerie trode is Edenia calling after us that I’m welcome to come back and be a guest of their grove any time.

I don’t say anything on our way through Faerie because I’m too embarrassed for words at how the dryads had gotten to me.

Cait giggling the whole way doesn’t help either.

###

The orphanage is a very large Victorian building, three stories high, and sitting in a very nice suburb of... somewhere. I still don’t know where I am, but at least in civilization I could find out and find a way home if I need to.

We’re met at the door by an elderly woman who’s slender and tall. Her iron grey hair is done up in a severe bun that goes well with her perfect posture. I expect her to be stern from the look of her, but that goes away almost immediately when she sees us. A warm smile blooms across her face and she pulls Cait into a hug. A hug that the fae returns enthusiastically.

They talk happily to each other for several minutes in a language that I don’t recognize. Eventually, I cough quietly into one hand, reminding them I’m here. The two straighten up quickly.

As soon as they’re composed, Cait introduces us, “Mrs. O'Mera, this is Ericka. I think she can solve your Tulpa problem. Ericka this is Mrs. O'Mera.” I’m getting the impression that this woman doesn’t actually have a first name.

I step forward and hold out a hand, which Mrs. O'Mera shakes with a grip like iron, “Well, then, dear, thank you for coming. Let me show you the problem.” Her accent is interesting. Very faint, whatever it is, but given how familiar she and Cait are acting, I’m betting on something native to the British Isles that isn’t English. More than that I’m not willing to speculate.

The interior of the building is very clean. Spotless hardwood floors with old faded carpets that look pretty good, even if they are ancient. Antique chairs and tables are scattered along the hallways and staged in rooms in a manner that makes me wonder if they’re meant to be used. Mostly though, the place feels empty. Our footsteps and conversation echo through the well preserved house.

Mrs. O'Mera speaks softly to Cait during the brief trip, but addresses me again as we reach a long hallway with three doors in it at the far end. One on each side and one straight ahead.

“These are the little one’s dorms,” the older woman explains, “boys on the left, girls on the right. The door at the end leads to an old boiler room. It still holds some of the heating for this wing of the house. It's old enough that it makes noises that can sound like something other than just pipes. The other part of it is that, because of the ventilation that the old boiler required,” Just then the door jerks and rattles in its frame, sounding very much like something is trying to get out. Or just remind everybody that it’s there, “that happens.

“The story started like most such things do. Older children trying to scare younger ones. The tale goes that the house is an orphanage because the original family that lived here had a child, Oliver, who was so bad they had no choice but to lock him up.” The woman points at the door to indicate where the fictional child had been held, “The couple then took in other children to soothe their guilt about what they had done to theirs.

“Of course, Oliver was still there and quickly began banging on the door,” the door in question rattles again, “jealous of the children that his parents now paid attention to instead of him. One night the boy got out of the boiler room, stalked the halls and found the worst behaved child in the orphanage and dragged that child back into his prison with him.

“What happened to the kidnapped child is never defined clearly, but the implication is that Oliver ate the child he took. Oliver taking him in the first place was because he thought that’s what happened to very bad children. Just as his parents did to him. From that point forward, Oliver’s parents took the worst behaving child in the orphanage and gave them to Oliver to keep him quiet, and protect the other children. Of course, if nobody is that bad often enough, somebody gets sent in anyway. Or that’s the story.”

I listen to the tale as I watch the door bang and rattle at distressingly appropriate points in the narrative. “So the collective belief in this story congealed together into an actual being mirroring the fictional Oliver?” I ask, making sure I have the idea straight.

“Indeed. We had never really given much credence to the story of course, we know the actual history of the house. You can never get rid of this sort of thing entirely, and as such stories go, this one was pretty harmless,” Mrs. O'Mera explains. “But then about two weeks ago Samira, one of our volunteer caretakers and in fact one of our former residents, woke to the sound of screaming. She came running, of course, and arrived just in time to see something dragging a boy out of the dorm, and towards the open boiler room door. The thing fled into the boiler room upon being seen, the door slamming shut behind it. Since then we’ve had five more attacks.”

“And you can’t just bar the door because that would encourage belief and make the thing stronger,” I sigh, looking down the hallway at the door. “So I think I can get rid of it, but I’ll need a couple of things. And you’re going to need to have the kids see it go, or they’ll just dream it back into existence. If they see it go, they’ll believe it’s gone, so...?” I shrug. It’s the only solution I have for how to get rid of a monster with belief based re-spawning.

Cait nods at me from behind Mrs. O'Mera, who looks thoughtful, “I can see why you say that, and I suppose if you’re certain what you do will work, it can be arranged.”

I wince, “Honestly ma’am, I have no idea. I’m pretty sure what I have in mind will work, but I’ve never dealt with a Tulpa before. I can only try, but if the belief that made it in the first place doesn’t go away,” I shrug again, “I can’t imagine that you won’t get another one pretty quickly.”

The old caretaker sighs, “Very well. What do you need?”

“Well... A picture of the Tulpa would be nice, what the story calls the thing, as I doubt it’s Oliver, and if it has any weaknesses. Anything that according to the story hurts it more than usual.”

“We do have a picture as it happens. Samira needed something to prove to the rest of us that this was actually happening. And no, they don’t call it Oliver. Bloody Olly does have a sensitivity to light after spending so much time in a dark room, you understand.” Mrs. O'Mera smiles for a moment before her face falls. As though she’s used to finding the story amusing, and suddenly can’t. To be fair, the story probably had been amusing to the caretakers here for quite some time. Right up until the story came to life and started trying to drag off their charges.

The picture is surprisingly clear. Taken with a flash polaroid, it shows a figure maybe the size of a very skinny seven year old. However it’s an indistinct black, the edges of the figure are fuzzy and blend into the shadows. It has no face, just a pair of glowing yellow eyes. It has a hunched posture that does something to disguise its overly long limbs and that its fingers are more like claws, but not nearly enough. Overall, it’s a very effective boogeyman and not something that I’d want in my closet.

With all the information I think I’ll need, I get to work. The main Script goes on the floor in front of the boiler room door. This acts first as the trap. Using a description of Bloody Olly derived from the picture, and symbols as close as I can get to its name, I create a circle that will trap the Tulpa, and hopefully only the Tulpa, in place. Next come other Scripts on the walls and ceiling that will create natural sunlight, and will be triggered once the trap goes off. The last part of the trap is in the original circle. Once the Tulpa is illuminated and weakened, the Script will drain away any energy in the circle, hopefully unraveling the Tulpa. And not doing too much damage while freezing the floor.

An application of blood and song activates the trap. “There,” I say turning to Mrs. O'Mera, “that will keep until activated, and hopefully take care of your Olly problem.” My head is beginning to hurt, and my throat definitely is. Activating Script takes a lot of focus, and I’ve never done more than one Script in a day before. It’s beginning to wear on me, and I have one more to do.

Fortunately, it’s the one I expect to be easy. Wards are something I’ve had a lot of practice with, warding and rewarding my home and room.

Mrs. O'Mera takes pity on me and insists that Cait and I stay for lunch.

The food is excellent and Mrs. O’Mera takes the opportunity to tell me stories about Cait. Cait is a changeling, as it turns out. One of the fae that’s left behind in the place of a child that the fae rescued from an abusive home, left behind specifically to punish the abusive parents. After Cait successfully drove her abusive foster parents insane, she was placed in Mrs. O'Meara's orphanage. Which was how they met, and how Cait ended up with a much better opinion of humanity than most changelings have. A good enough opinion that she decided to stick around rather than returning to Faerie. I get the impression that there’s more to Cait’s story, but either Mrs. O'Mera doesn’t know or isn’t telling, and I feel no need to pry.

Fed and with an opportunity to rest, I feel much better by the time Cait and I set off to our last stop for the day.

###

This time Cait starts talking almost as soon as we move onto Faerie’s paths, “This next group is a little unusual. They’re extremely reclusive, and are only letting you in because I vouched for you. What you do will reflect on me, so don’t fuck up.”

I swallow and can feel my hand sweating where I grip Cait’s tail, “No pressure then.”

Cait continues as though I haven’t spoken, which doesn’t fill me with confidence, “They’re descended from a native American tribe, and dedicated to hunting various native American monsters.”

“Skinshifters, and Wendigos?” I ask, naming the only two American native monsters I know of.

Cait nods, “Exactly. Those and a lot of other things you’ve never heard of. Some of them you won’t know because they’re just that uncommon, others because knowledge of them has been deliberately suppressed. You ready?” she asks, looking back at me.

God dammit, after that talk I’m nervous as hell. I nod anyway, though, and Cait takes us out of Faerie.

We arrive in a dirt floored room very similar to the one we left from in the book store. A large man of native American descent is waiting for us. He’s dressed in a nice business suit with a bolo tie and his long hair is pulled back into a ponytail much like mine is. I don’t think bonding over hairstyles will work, though, given his very serious expression.

“I am the shaman in charge of this facility,” he introduces himself, not offering a hand to shake or any greeting at all as he leads us out of the room. “There are no names here, Miss Rhostana,” except for mine apparently, “you will address us by position.” I glance at Cait but she shakes her head, so I decide not to ask.

He leads us through a few hallways as he explains what they want from me, “We have an opportunity to capture a very elusive monster. One that has never successfully been killed, studied, or even held before.” His voice is even but I can hear a hint of excitement in his tone, “Its power,” whatever that is, is probably another thing I won’t be told. Or told why I won’t be told, “can only be stopped by wood. However it has more than enough physical strength to smash any hardwood to splinters.”

“Which is where I come in,” I say, nodding. It’s something I can definitely do. The front door to my house can probably take an RPG at least once before it gives. With something better to work with I can make it even tougher and last longer under pressure.

“Indeed,” the shaman nods, opening a set of double doors to reveal an expansive warehouse-like room. It’s entirely empty save for a large, steel banded wooden box, big enough to hold two grizzly bears comfortably. “The wood is iron wood and almost a foot thick. The banding is an inch thick and three inches wide.” And this, apparently, is nowhere near enough.

Okay, I can work with this, “I’ll need some specific materials, but I can write a self sustaining Script onto the wood that will make it invulnerable as long as it lasts. With enough silver wire...”

“There can be no additive power,” the shaman interrupts me, “anything unnatural in the substance of the cage will compromise the wood’s ability to stop the beast’s power.”

What.

I knew I’d jinxed myself. God damn it!

I glare at Cait who simply shrugs, “You said anything.”

“Can you help us?” the shaman asks expressionless. He doesn’t expect me to be able to, I realize. They had tried before, and failed, but something about this is important enough to try again anyway. And Cait had gone out on a limb and told them that I could give them a miracle.

So what they want me to do is somehow make the wood, without running any energy through it, able to hold up to their monster.

I have no idea how to go about doing that.

But that’s what I have to do.

I can try altering the wood in some way, but if just running energy through the wood stopped it working, altering it too much probably won’t work either. I run my hands over my hair making a frustrated noise, “Let me work on this for a bit, and I’ll let you know.”

The shaman nods and turns to Cait, “We can wait in one of the studies, it will be a more comfortable place to talk.”

“Sure, it’ll give us a chance to catch up.” Cait takes him up on the offer, and the two of them stroll out the door without a care in the world. Meanwhile, I turn back to the box.

I pace around it, knock on it, even climb it a few times. The problem is that I need the wood to have the properties of something not wood, while staying wood. Which makes no sense. If it doesn’t behave like wood, it’s not wood! That’s the way it works! It was the old if it walks like a duck, and talks like a duck, then it’s a fucking duck!

I groan and sit down, lean my back against the box, pull my knees up to my chest, wrap my arms around them, and bury my face in them.

This is the important job, I realize.

The dryads are out in the middle of nowhere, who would they tell about me? And who would listen to them? The orphanage was almost more a favor to Cait. A mundane, if aware, woman running an orphanage won’t have many people she can tell about what I can do, and won’t have the reputation for her words to carry a lot of weight.

An obviously old and powerful mage society, though? One that probably deals with a lot of other supernaturals as they did their thing hunting monsters? And probably has a good reputation because of it?

This is the important job, and I’m fucking it up.

The day had been going so well too! And now, at the finish line, I’m going to fail. Cait had taken a risk on me, given me this chance, and I’m going to blow it.

My trap Script would work, I’m sure. Or as sure as I can be without testing it. But I can’t think of a reason why it wouldn’t.

And I helped the dryads! That had been straightforward and easy.

And had come with great eye candy.

I blush slightly as I think about Edinia’s invitation to return to the grove and be their guest for a while. It’s really tempting, and something I might actually do if I can find my way back there without Cait.

Cait would just mock me incessantly, and I don’t need that.

It would be a great way to experience certain things without getting attached to somebody I’d just have to leave. Some part of me knows that I’m rationalizing but I ignore that part ‘cause damn if those tree girls can’t kiss.

I mean, wow. For a first kiss, that was not a bad one to get.

My brain keeps circling that idea. Which is frustrating, because tree girls, as nice as they are, are just distracting me from my current issue...

Tree. Girl.

Tree girl.

Tree girl!

I snap upright and bite off a curse as I smack the back of my head into the hardwood I’m leaning against and scramble for the door. Dryads essentially are their trees. Both tree and girl at the same time. All the time. They can be as hard as the wood of their trees when they want to, or soft flesh...

I stop the thought there with another blush.

The point is that I’m not bound entirely by the physical world as science understands it. I’m in fantasy land, and I’ve put a lot of effort into making physics my bitch. Ripping the door open, there’s a young man there that appears to be waiting for me. Probably just in case I need something or to keep me from wandering around in their super secret fortress.

He smiles at me, “Hello there. They didn’t tell me that the visiting mage was such a vision of loveli...”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I need you to go get your boss,” I cut him off before he can get going. Now is not the time for flirting even if he had parts I’m interested in. I feel like I’m on the edge of something big. For me, if nobody else. However, given what this bunch are asking, I’m pretty sure that this, if it works, will be unique. That feeling combined with the exhaustion from the rest of the day is making me a little manic.

I slam the door shut, and dive for my bag. Pulling out the Script dictionary, I start paging through it rapidly, trying to find some concept that will work for what I’m after. What seems like moments later the door swings open again and the shaman and Cait enter the room.

I look up at them and apparently I’m looking a little crazy because they both stop dead upon seeing me. “Dryads!” I cry out and bounce to my feet.

“Dryads,” Cait agrees soothingly like she’s trying to calm down a crazy person.

“Yes, dryads! Don’t talk to me like that. Dryads are one with their trees, how?” I demand startling both of them with the non sequitur from the looks of it.

The shaman is the one who answered me, “They share essence with their trees, making them both.” The man says slowly, “You think you could do this? Make the wood both wood and something else?”

“Essence!” I dive back into my book looking for the symbols I want, “Maybe, but that’s not really what we want. It’s probably the easiest way, but if we stuff steel essence into the wood it still won’t be wood any more. Or at least I wouldn’t want to bet on it still being wood for your purposes. And from what you’ve told me about this thing, we shouldn’t take chances.”

“Then I must confess that I’m lost,” the shaman admits, but I’m not really paying attention to him any more.

I’m pretty sure that from what I already know, and what I’m looking up now, I can do what I’m thinking of. “I need you to get something, something with the strength and hardness that you want your box, cage, vault, thingy to have.” I pull out my notebook and a pencil and start scribbling down ideas for how to arrange the Script.

I can totally do this.

I don’t notice the shaman leave. I notice him return with several more people in tow, carrying something heavy between them. I glance up as they come in and point at a spot near the box, but not too near. I’ll need room to write around it after all, “Put it there!”

They drop the dull black metal ingot with a thud. It doesn’t ring, or rattle. Just thud. There might have been a faint tremor when it hit the floor.

I dart to my feet, carrying my notebook as a reference in one hand and a fresh stick of bone chalk in the other, and I go to work. It’s my largest Script to date. I surround the ingot in one circle, describing what qualities I want to copy from it. Another around the box, some of it traveling up onto the box, describing how what is transferred would be integrated. That turns out to be easier than I thought, but I can’t find anything wrong with it so I move on. Lastly, a lot of connections between the two describing how what’s copied will be delivered to where it’ll be used.

Finally it’s done, and I step back sweating and breathing hard, “There. That should do it.” This will not be a short Script.

I’ve acquired an audience of several dozen, but I try not to pay attention to them. It takes me several minutes to catch my breath, but once I have I’m ready to begin. For the third time that day I approach the beginning of a Script story, apply blood from my poor sore thumb, and sing.

Light trickles from my blood to the absorption Script, and then burns through the symbols, following my song. It flows through the circle around the metal, then down the channels to the circle around the box. The light surrounding the square wooden cage crawls up it and sinks into the wood.

I stop singing, the Script done. My head is pounding, and I’m gasping for air. The room is silent as I turn back to the shaman and nod. He gestures to one of the other members of their wizard order, or whatever it is.

The young man steps forward, carefully stepping over the bone chalk that remains. Taking out a small knife he reaches forward to try and notch the wood.

I, along with everybody else, hold my breath.

Then the knife carves a small groove into the wood and my heart plummets. It didn’t work.

The room erupts into pandemonium.

“I knew it would never work,” a young mage says to the mage next to him.

“It’s an outsider, what do you expect?”

“Never should have wasted our time.”

“Waste of time.”

“You told me that she could do this.” That’s the shaman.

“I thought she could.” My ears start ringing as Cait replies, “She’s managed everything else today. Maybe this was just too much for her.”

The volume of the chatter seems to rise until it feels deafening, “We trusted.” “Shouldn’t have bothered.” “Failure.” ‘Victim’ My own mind supplies.

“Shut up!” somebody screams. I look around to find out who... why is everybody looking at me?

... Oh, because that was me.

I take a few deep breaths to center myself. “We are trying something entirely new here. Something that apparently has never been done before. You’d be lucky if something worked the first time you try it even if you know exactly what to do. We don’t have that luxury here. Now shut up, and let me figure out what went wrong so I can try again.”

Without waiting for a reply I turn and stalk forward to examine every bit of my Script. I’d seen the light travel through the entire Script, so it’s not a grammatical or connection error. Really there are only two places it could have failed. The places where I’m making things up. The places where it wouldn’t be obvious if the Script didn’t work. Either copying the qualities we want from the metal, or giving them to the wood.

I start with the box. The light from the Script had sunk into the wood evenly from what I saw, and the Script had described the process well. I can’t see anything I would change. I kept it simple so it’s unlikely that the Script has done something other than what I had intended.

Which means that the failure is at the other end.

Hopefully.

The Script around the metal is by necessity more complex than that around the box. It describes precisely as I can what qualities I want to copy. The information on those qualities should have traveled with the light to the box.

Maybe that’s the problem? The light can’t hold the information to copy? No, I think the problem is that you can’t just stick information into an object and expect the object to know what to do with it. I could probably write a Script to use the metal as a template and alter the wood to match... but that comes back to altering the wood in a way I’m not sure would leave it wood. Essence is the answer...

If I can’t copy it, can I take it? Sacrifice the metal to give its properties to something else?

Sacrifice.

The word clicks in my head. I’m sacrificing blood and power from the world around me to achieve a temporary effect. A trap that will vanish once it’s sprung, or a tree that’s accelerated, but not really changed in a way it wouldn’t have on it’s own. Even my reinforcements and wards will only last until the Script overloads, then vanish as though they had never been. But if I want to achieve something more permanent, a larger sacrifice would be needed.

I don’t have any idea if that’s how it really works, but it makes sense to me at this moment. So I go with it.

I erase large portions of the Script surrounding the metal ingot, and start again. This time I’m not copying. Not looking, remembering, and moving on. This time I’m taking. Ripping the hardness, and strength from the metal and leaving the rest behind. Whatever happens to the metal, happens.

I check over my changes, making sure they don’t conflict with any of the unaltered Script. Steadfastly ignoring the soft murmurs in the background, I bite my thumb to start the blood flowing again, apply it, and sing one more time.

The light flows again, everything looking exactly as it had before. Until it reaches the metal. Instead of flowing over it, the light rushes through the ingot. The metal cracks, saggs, and begins to ooze into a puddle. No longer possessing the tensile strength to hold itself together, or any hardness at all. The light rushes through the channels and into the circle around the box, and from that circle, into the wood once again. The wood groans audibly as though under some strain, but there’s no visible change.

The room is silent as the same mage as the first time moves forward again. My head throbs from the panicked focus that had led to my new changes. I watch with baited breath as the knife reaches forward again, and scrapes along the wood without so much as scratching it. Even rapid subsequent tests with larger sharp objects fail to make an impression. When a strike with an axe brakes the axe against the wooden box, we all finally accept it has worked.

I let out my breath in a rush and stagger. I feel dizzy as the pressure of expectations, both mine and those around me, vanish with my success. I manage to wobble my way to scuff out my power draw Script, and the Script that ripped apart the metal. The rest of it isn’t that special, straight forward really. But if I can use Script, then anybody can, and those two bits are my invention. I’m unwilling to let go of any advantage, especially as I’m sure there’s something special in this one. Those two Scripts I’ll be keeping to myself.

I shuffle my way over to my bag as the several hundred mages... When did they all get here? And how did I miss them arriving? The mages quietly, or loudly depending, debated and discussed what I had just done. Several of them are examining my Script, convincing me that I made the right choice destroying the pieces I had.

Having collected my things, I shuffle over to where Cait and the shaman stand watching the rest of the room, but not participating in the chaos themselves. They turn to look at me as I approach, “I think I’m ready to go home now.” I tell them, swaying on my feet.

Cait smiles at me, it’s a new smile, not smug, or amused, or even just pleased, “Good job, Kitten. You did real good.” Oh, she’s proud. Of me. I think I’m blushing again.

“Indeed,” the shaman nods, “Ericka Rhostana. It is as you said Caitríona, a name to watch for.”


	6. Book 1 - Sarah MVP

Age Seventeen

Running is probably my least favorite part of keeping myself in fighting trim. People wax poetic about the open road, just you and your thoughts. I just find it the worst mix of boring, tiring, and necessary. Really, it has only two redeeming qualities, it lets me fight harder longer, and it gives me the opportunity to meet with contacts that can’t really approach me at home or at school.

Like the brain meltingly pretty, naked figure with green skin waving me down from the grove of trees up ahead. I turn off the path I’m running on and head in her direction, slowing from a run to jog, then to a walk.

“Morning, Jas,” I greet the dryad that has become my principal connection to the bottom rung of power in the supernatural world.

Contrary to what I thought at the time, most of my jobs don’t come from the mage society. Instead, most of my referrals can be traced back to the dryad grove, with Mrs. O’Mera a... not close, but decent second. I seem to have found my niche in helping out the lower end of the supernatural world. The small spirits, like dryads, brownies or other house and nature spirits. Creatures that either have limited power, or limited ways they can apply it. Thus, they are ignored by the larger players.

No devil, angel, fallen or otherwise, or god, cares about the little nature spirits, or housekeeper fae. Which also makes it hard to get things outside of their specialty done. Devils might help for a contract, if they’re desperate. However, while few of the little spirits feel comfortable asking a devil for help, they don’t have any such problem with me. From them I get jobs like the dryad grove. Or helping to hide a cave. Or in one instance, I spent a month purifying a swamp and making sure it couldn’t be polluted again.

Similarly, Mrs. O’Mera sends me the mortals that run into things they don’t know about or can’t understand. These people have nothing to offer the supernatural world and so, are ignored by it as anything but prey. For them I do a lot of exorcisms, a stiff business on protective charms, chasing off gremlins, and on one notable occasion, removing a curse from an Egyptian sarcophagus for the museum it was housed in.

My rapidly growing relationship with the lesser supernaturals means I have somehow tripped my way into a surprisingly effective intelligence network. If the lesser spirits and fae are good at anything, it’s hiding, which means that they tend to overhear things people say when they think they’re alone. After all, who worries about talking in front of a tree? Or rock?

On the other hand, you never know when that was a dryad tree, or an oread rock. They’re happy to pass on gossip.

“Good morning, Ericka!” Jasmine squeaks and gives me a hug in greeting. By now I’m used to most nature spirits’ aversion to clothes. So as much as it might be enjoyable to squeeze the strangely soft tree, it doesn’t stall my thinking anymore.

I get free from the hug and start stretching to avoid cooling down all the way, even as I give the dryad the majority of my attention. “What brings you out today? Are you girls having Sater problems again?” I growl. Despite all being in the same boat, not all of the small spirits are very nice to each other. I had set a trap ward at Jas’ grove’s request, and also at their request I’d made it non lethal, just painful. If the girls are still being bothered though, I won’t be talked out of making an example again.

“Oh, no!” Jas hops backwards and shakes her head and waves her hands back and forth, “Nothing like that. We just got word from a city spirit that overheard something we thought you might be interested in. Apparently, a couple of exorcists were really hurt, but they were saying how that didn’t matter anymore because they had a saint in the Vatican who could heal them!”

I stall.

A saint? 

“Uh huh.” Apparently, I said that out loud. “They called her the Holy Maiden!”

A Holy Maiden. In the Vatican. Who heals.

There are only so many people that can be.

Asia Argento showing up means I’m running out of time. Canon hasn’t started yet, but I can see it from here, and I don’t know how far away it is. I'm nowhere near ready.

I look up and give Jas, who was looking at me worriedly, a slightly forced smile, “I’m okay, Jas. Just surprised.” I give her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. Dryads are very touch oriented, physical affection would convince Jas that I’m okay more than any words, “I very much wanted to know that, so I owe you guys one. That city spirit, too!” I shout over my shoulder as I turn and start running back home, “I’ll see you later, Jas!” She waves after me happily, all right in her world. Less so in mine.

I have to get ready.

###

“Ericka!” I freeze at my mothers shout, standing on one foot, a shoe half on, the other hanging from my fingers, “More college applications are here!” I groan in despair.

“Mom...” I start, only to be interrupted by my mother striding into the living room. She has a bundle of papers in one hand and both hands on her hips.

“Don’t start with me, Ericka. You are going to college, young lady.” This is an ongoing argument. My parents, quite understandably, want me to attend further schooling. I, on the other hand, have already been to college in my last life. I got a degree and everything, and have absolutely no desire to do it again.

Besides, I’m still leaving. Who knows if the next reality I land in will even have college? Even if it does, I doubt a degree from one of this reality's would be accepted. I already know how to think critically, thanks to my last time, though. Which is the only universally useful thing college offers. So I figure my time is better spent practicing combat and perfecting my Script.

Of course, I can’t exactly just tell my mother that. So instead, I’m trying to push for a year off for traveling after high school. Once I’m out there I can just... not come back, keep wandering until I figure things out. College deferred indefinitely. Sure, I’ll be a legal adult before then, but anybody who thinks that alone is enough to win an argument with your parents has either never had parents, or never argued with them.

Doesn’t help me now though, “I’m not arguing that.” And I’m not, that’s a losing fight and I try to avoid those. I finish putting on my shoes as I reply, firing for effect, “I just want a chance to... not drive myself so hard.” That’s a low blow and I know it, but when arguing with your parents there are only so many winning tactics.

My mother grimaces, which means I’ve scored on that one, and sighs, “If you stop now, you’ll lose a lot of the impact of having so many extra curriculars. I just think...”

“Mom,” I cut in, earning me a disapproving look and a huff, “I’m going to be late for work.” The only guaranteed way to extract yourself safely from a parental discussion/lecture. Being responsible about something else.

Mom huffs again, “Fine. But don’t think that this conversation is over, young lady!” I wonder if I’ll ever be old enough for my parents to stop calling me ‘young lady’. Somehow I doubt it.

I escape while I have the chance and make a break for freedom. My old beat up junker starter car is waiting for me at the curb. An ancient Volvo that had been vomit yellow when I’d first gotten it is now an intense shimmering blue.

I hum happily every time I see it. It’s proof of my increasing skill with Script, and every bit of skill I acquire brings me one step closer to having achieved goal one.

Now if only it drove anywhere near as good as it looks.

###

“Good morning, Kitten, working here today?”

I smile at Cait as I push my way into the book store, “No. Just... here to pick up a few things, then I’m off again.” Cait is quite probably one of the best things that has ever happened to me. After that first night she decided to take that kitten joke I’d made about her tail literally. She isn’t really mothering me, but she is taking care of me. At least with regard to the supernatural.

She frowns, but doesn’t stop me as I head for the back. Cait set me up with a work room in the back of her store where I can practice and experiment. It’s the second door on the left, past the faerie trode and is fairly simple.

It’s a large room that I’ve filled with three tables and a desk. My routine on arriving starts just inside the door, where a small table stands with a box on it. The box is where Cait dumps the write-ups for all the jobs she’s found that I might want to do. So, mostly requests from small spirits, some from desperate mundanes, and a very few from larger players.

Next thing to check is the largest piece of furniture here, the table that takes up most of the center of the room. That’s where I do my experiments, and I have a lot of them. Once I’d discovered sacrificial Script rituals, I spent a lot of time trying to discover how to turn them into something useful.

Mostly, I’ve discovered limitations.

I can’t just steal something else's magic.

I’m not about to start experimenting on myself, which means that over the last two years I've done a lot of bad things to animals. My first experiment was simply trying to move power from one creature to another. So Cait got me a jackalope from someplace called the Forest of Familiars and I tried to move it’s magic into a normal rabbit.

The rabbit exploded.

I tried a dozen different times in a dozen different ways to simply give a mundane creature a supernatural one’s magic. It never works. A normal body can’t handle having magic pumped through it any more than it can handle making out with an electrical substation, and trying ends with similar results in both cases.

I can’t transfer skills.

I got three dozen rats. A third of them learned to navigate a maze, the rest didn’t. Then I tried to move the accumulated knowledge from one of the rats that knew the maze to one of the rats that didn’t, leaving the last dozen as the control group. There’s no difference between the ‘ritually enhanced’ rats and control rats.

I ended up giving all the rats to Cait, and I have no idea what she’d done with them. Really, I have no desire to know what a cat fae does with two dozen rats.

What I have discovered however, after two years of work and hundreds of experiments, is that I can move traits.

Inborn abilities that perhaps require skill to use effectively, but none to use at all. For example, I made a hawk’s feathers soft and soundless like an owl’s. I changed the kind of silk a spider produced, making a common Orb Weaver produce Darwin’s Bark silk. And I changed the color of a dozen things. The first success had used a butterfly's wing to change the color of a colored pencil. The second had used that butterfly’s other wing to change the color of my car. The last was a volunteer from my ‘mortal’s in the know’ client list who’d been tired of dying her hair. She’s now a natural blond, and quite pleased with the effect.

The moving of traits? I can work with that.

The next stop in my office routine is a table up against the right side of the wall, and what Cait has really done for me. It’s piled high with books on the biology and anatomy of supernatural species. As I figured out what I can do with my Scripts, Cait had started handing me books that helped me build a wish list. The list is long and I doubt that I’ll get much that’s on it, but it will give me a starting place when I finally get to that point. I’m also making a short list that I feel is more likely.

The desk is last, and where I do my actual work on my Script. A place for the Script dictionary and room for my notebooks. Generally, a comfortable place to figure out how to do what my clients want. I’ve enough of them now that I have to pick and choose who gets my time. That’s the other great thing about working with the small spirits, they’re the opposite of entitled. Instead of being pissed that I’m not fulfilling their requests, they seem to understand that I have both a life and a limited amount of time. So they’re usually thrilled when I actually show up. In return, I try to prioritize the clients that actually need help.

I’m not here for any of that just now, though. With the revelation that Asia is active, I have a limited amount of time to be ready for canon, and I can suddenly feel the pressure of the on-coming deadline.

Well no, that’s a lie. I’ve felt pressured from the moment I was born into this world. Now though... I have no idea how old Asia was when she started working for the church as the ‘Holy Maiden’. Or how long after that she got excommunicated and started the wild ride that ended up with her as a devil in Japan. However it’s the first sign of canon that I’ve come across. Which brings everything into stark relief.

The power creep is going to start, and if I hang around for too long after that, I’m screwed. That’s the problem with being a magically talented mortal in this world. As the pressure is turned up on all the major factions, devils will start looking for better peerage members, and get less picky about how they get them.

I’m caught in a Catch 22, I have to get powerful as fast as I can because of the limited time before I catch the attention of somebody I can’t deal with. The more powerful I get, though, the less time I have.

Which is why I’m about to do something stupid. I know how to integrate a new trait into a living thing and how to take it from a sacrifice. Cait’s not sure I’m ready to use this knowledge on myself, though. Hell, I’m not sure I’m ready. The ticking clock, though, means I don’t have time to be more sure.

Which is why I’m here grabbing bone chalk and a notebook before heading to my other job.

Cait’s watching me with a concerned frown when I reach the front door, “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Her voice makes me pause at the door.

“No. But I also don’t see that I have much choice.”

She sighs. She doesn’t know why I feel that I’m working on borrowed time, I can't exactly tell her that I read fanfiction about the future. She doesn’t pry and doesn't try to stop me, though. She just nods, “What are you starting with then?”

I grin, she’ll like this, “I’m going to give myself a cat’s night vision.”

“Well at least you have good taste.”

###

I got my other job when I realized that what I intend to do will end up with me killing a lot of animals, and I needed some way to handle that without looking like a serial killer. So I went to the largest vet in the city and volunteered for the most shit job there.

Oh, I cleaned cages and washed animals kept there. The thing that really sucks and is useful for me at the same time though, is I volunteered to help put animals down and deal with the bodies afterwards. Which, as terrible as it sounds, is perfect for me. I can easily slip a few extra dead animals into the incinerator we use to cremate the animals that either don’t have owners or whose owners don’t want to take the bodies home.

The part that’s important now, however, is the other part of my job. I clean the procedure room before anything else happens, hold the animals down while the vet and the tech do their jobs, and clean up afterwards.

I hate this job, but I also know that the way I’m going, I’d best get used to this sort of thing. My hating the job also actually helps me get along with my coworkers. Apparently at first, with my volunteering for this, they were worried that I’d be getting off on it or something. My clear disgust with myself after the first few times though seemed to settle them.

I park my Morpho Blue car in the employee lot and let myself into the back. The first part of my day is very boring, as I wash dogs, cats, and kennels. Also the most ornery hamster to ever walk the earth.

Seriously, that thing does more damage to my hands than any three cats.

Through all of this, I try to act as normal as possible and not like I had a stick of chalk burning a hole in my pocket. I don’t think I succeeded, but from what I overhear during lunch between two of the receptionists, they think that I’ve ‘finally’ asked Sarah out. Or she’s asked me out.

Sarah and I have been starring in their imaginary soap opera since she picked me up from work a year ago. For some reason they don’t believe me when I say I’m not interested in her. They do believe me when I say she’s straight, though. Painfully enough, they also don’t argue when I point out that she’s out of my league. Then they’re convinced that I’m pining... it’s a thing. One I haven’t managed completely to squash yet.

They have given me an excuse though, and I’m in no way above taking it. Even if I do glare at their giggling as I leave the lunch room.

Finally though, it’s time for me to clean up the procedure room. I scrub down the table and make sure that there’s a box of gloves available. Only then do I get to my real work. With great care I draw a script circle on the underside of the stainless steel table right where I’ll be holding the cat in about an hour. Getting the other side of the table to count as ‘in the circle’ had been a nightmare. Especially with how little space I have to work with. Also the part of the Script I haven’t had a chance to check yet. I’m not too worried though, if that part of the Script fails the whole thing should just not work. I can’t imagine how not having anything to take traits from would have unintended consequences. As long as a fly doesn’t land in the circle at just the wrong time or something.

...Note to self, make sure no flies land in unfortunate places during this.

The connecting channels run down the inside of the table’s legs where they won’t be easily spotted. Last is the delivery and integration Script that goes right where I’ll be standing. It’s pure dumb luck that the room is floored in off-white tile, so the chalk is almost invisible.

I double and triple check everything. I probably would have quadruple or quintuple checked things, but before I can, I run out of time.

The tech comes in first, a taciturn man who’s version of a friendly greeting is a grunt, a nod, and no swearing. I can’t really blame him. Given I get a grunt and a glare today it must mean that the meeting with his divorce lawyer went well. Whatever ‘well’ looks like when it involves a divorce lawyer.

The doctor sticks her head in a moment later. Doctor Fawn Perrin is in her early thirties, blond haired, green eyed, and I would say depressingly straight. I’m not interested in more than eye candy though, so it doesn’t matter much. She’s the new vet, hired at around the same time I was, so because she gets all the shit vet jobs and I get all the shit grunt jobs we end up spending a surprising amount of time together.

She glances around the room, gives me a nod and a smile before leaving to get our patient and my sacrifice. She comes back moments later with Simon. Simon is a twenty year old tomcat who is mostly blind, four-fifths deaf, and has arthritis in every joint bad enough that he can’t move. Even sitting still, he’s in constant pain.

I take the loudly purring old man from the Doc and lay him down on the table right over the Script circle. I stand in mine and hold him down, resting a hand on his shoulders and hips. Holding him isn't really necessary, Simon can barely move, but it’s the right way to do things and it lets me scrunch my fingers in his fur to give him something like petting.

Seeing the Doc and the tech ready, I brace myself as they go to work. One of the new innovations I’ve made during my experiments is a way to make a Script activate from the death of the sacrifice as opposed to my blood. This has several beneficial effects. In situations like this it’s subtler, I don’t have to do anything unusual to make things happen. Another is that by some strange cosmic accident, the life of a sacrifice always provides just enough power to move one trait. The more powerful the trait, the more power it needs to be moved. The more powerful the creature that holds the trait in the first place, the more power is released upon its death. So no need to draw ambient energy to run the Script, which also contributes to that subtlety thing. Lastly, being self contained, the entire Script runs much quicker. Which I can’t imagine won’t come in handy at some point.

Simon lays still under my hands, purring away, eyes closed, as the tech and Doc Perrin do their thing, and I try not to hyperventilate. I’m about to experience the culmination of ten years of my life, I think I can be forgiven for being a little distracted. The Doc inserts the needle and I close my eyes, silently thanking Simon for helping me with his last act.

The old cat's purr slowly quiets, his heart under my hand slowing until finally it stops. I open my eyes again and look down as Simon’s last breath wheezes out of him. Out of the corner of my eye I see the Script circle on the ground shimmer with the subtle light that the new way of powering the Script produced.

My vision goes blurry as I feel something begin to change.

Then my world is made of agony.

...My knees hit the floor.

...I clutch my face, screaming.

...Red hot coals are driven into my eye sockets.

Nothing has ever hurt this much.

Some part of my mind, oddly clear even as I writhe on the ground, wonders if this is Simon’s revenge for taking his night vision.

After what feels like forever, my screams have devolved into sobbing. I feel the prick of a needle on my shoulder, and blessed cool numbness spreads from that spot.

In that moment before the darkness takes me, I think that if it had been the same needle that the Doc had just used on Simon...

I don’t think I would have minded.

###

I... am on some great drugs.

Like really really good.

The agony of my eye sockets has faded to a persistent ache, but with the power of my IV drip I! Do! Not! Care!

It’s awesome.

I just hope I’m in the hospital. I’m pretty sure, what with the IV and all... But I can’t see, which makes it hard to be sure.

The bandages over my eyes let me pretend that I’m just blindfolded. I know what that’s like. Once when I was younger, nine I think, I tried to get around blindfolded so that I could learn to function and fight without sight.

It didn’t work well.

I walked into everything and only kept it on for an hour or so before mom made me take it off. Dad had thought it was hilarious. My Muay Thai instructor didn’t even let me get it on before telling me no, and Sarah smacked me on the shoulder and told me to stop being silly.

I don’t think it’s that ridiculous. I’m in Fantasy Land! With pretty nature spirits! That I never did get to see again by myself and in private.

And dragons!

Gods!

I see no reason why I can’t be awesome too.

I cross my arms and pout to display my displeasure to the world.

The world doesn’t care though, it never does, and there’s nobody else in the room...

I think...

Hard to tell while blind.

But I can hear the doctor outside the door to my room, and he (why can’t I get a pretty girl doctor? I won’t be able to see her, but still!) seems to be talking about me so I try to listen in. It’s rude to eavesdrop, but it’s rude to talk about people behind their backs too, so I figure it evens out.

“...Never seen anything like it,” the voice that I think is my doctor says, “her eyes look like they... ripped themselves apart. The iris, lens, and retina have been literally shredded.”

“What could have done this?” That sounds like mom’s voice. Mom is here!

Maybe I can get a hug.

Mom hugs make many things better and I could use one about now.

“I honestly have no idea,” the doctor says, “The closest thing I can think of is some sort of... pressure differential. Like if the pressure on the interior of the eye spiked suddenly causing it to burst. However according to what the paramedics got from witnesses at the scene, nothing unusual happened. No lead in pain, no stress that might have caused a blood pressure spike. Just fine, then on the floor.”

“However it happened, how long until she recovers.” That’s dad!

Hi dad!

“Sir, you need to understand, the front and back of her eyes have been reduced to shreds. Even if we could piece everything back together, and somehow managed to stitch or glue it in place long enough to heal, the scarring would still render her blind. The only thing we can do now is remove the rest of the eyeball to prevent infection.” Oooh, I don’t like the sound of that. I’m pretty sure regenerating my eyes wholesale would be much harder than just fixing the damage.

Maybe Cait will visit me before that and she can help me sneak out!

I bet she’d do that.

She likes being sneaky.

Sarah wouldn’t.

She’d be too worried about me and want me to stay with the doctors.

Sarah’s a good friend.

There’s more conversation, but focusing is hard.

“Ericka? Honey? Can you hear me?” That’s mom!

“Hi mom!” I try to wave, but the IV is in that arm, so I wave with my other arm.

“How do you feel?” Mom asks.

I think for a moment, then giggle, “High.”

Somebody in the room sighs and I feel a weight settle on my bed and a pair of hands take one of mine, “Honey, we need to tell you a few things.”

“Okay!” I chirp.

I haven’t chirped since I was in single digits!

Really good drugs.

My parents then start to explain what had happened to me. That my eyes had for some reason shredded and burst. That there is no real way to fix them. That I would be blind for the rest of my life. Then there’s silence, the feel of my mother clutching my hand, as they wait for my response.

I blew a raspberry.

Possibly not my best move, but it's too late now, “I’ll be fine. I just need some magic healing.” I try to wave a hand dismissively, discover mom is holding onto it, and so waved the other one dismissively, “Just take me home with what’s left of my eyes and I’ll take care of the rest.”

There’s another moment of silence which I fill with humming.

Then my father sighs and my mother starts sobbing.

Was it something I said?

###

I don’t end up staying in the hospital for very long, only a day. My loud protestation that the remains of my eyes should stay exactly where they are manages to convince my parents that they should at least wait until I know what’s happening to decide anything. Which from their perspective, I clearly don’t just then. Since other than my eyes I’m uninjured, and there’s nothing else the doctors can do for me, they send me home.

I’m wheeled out to the car, and helped into the back seat by the nurse. The drive home is... fascinating. The doctors had given me pain pills, but I grow more reluctant to take them as my mind clears. Which it does slowly on the way. Gritting my teeth against the gradually increasing pain, my stomach becomes increasingly unsettled by the combination of fading drugs and driving while blind. 

I start seriously thinking about how to fix this. I don’t think that Cait can help me. She doesn’t have any healing powers herself. She can’t take me anywhere because there’s no way I’m trying to walk faerie paths without being able to see them, at least as much as I normally could. It would be way too easy to put a foot wrong and end up cursed to be a donkey or something.

I don’t have a surfeit of options though.

My parents help me out of the car when we arrive at home and lead me upstairs to my room. Mom helps me into bed and I settle in to think about what I can do. As much as I don’t want to, I’m probably going to have to use that devil flier I’ve been sitting on for the last nine years. I really hope that I get the nice Yuki Onna, my research with Cait finally clued me in to what she is, and not the dick noble.

I just need somebody to go with me since I’m blind, but who would be willing to...

My thoughts are interrupted as my door slams open and I levitate at least a foot off my bed.

“I’ve had enough!” Sarah shrieks, and kicks the door shut. “You will tell me what the fuck is going on and you will tell me right the fuck now!”

“I don’t...” I try.

“No! Shut up! At first I just thought it was the way you are. You work yourself to the bone at everything you do. But then that thing at your school happened and you got worse. You practice all the time, you drive yourself even while injured. You’re jittery and paranoid around new people or large crowds.” I’m not, I’m just healthily cautious. You never know who’s a supernatural after all, “You draw your little weird symbols and swear at yourself when you get one ‘wrong’. You’re terrified of something and you will tell me what right now so I can help, or so help me I will beat it out of you, blind or not!” She’s breathing hard, I can hear the controlled panting she gets when we spar, so I kinda think she would.

Which I really don’t want. My eyes hurt, I’m still at least mildly high, and Sarah hits hard.

“You wouldn't believe me.” It’s all I can think of to say.

“Try me,” she growls. I feel a weight climb onto the bed. It settles on both sides of my hips, and I feel a warm weight press down on me.

Was...?

“Are you sitting on me?” I don’t quite know what to make of that. Except that picturing it is not what I should be doing right now.

“Just making sure you don’t get away,” Sarah says sweetly, “Now talk.”

Well... this will be awkward.

###

I explain everything. Remembering my past life. Being aware on the day of my birth. Realizing that there’s magic out there, beings that can scour continents clean. My determination to be more than fodder, and realizing I had literally nothing going for me.

I tell her about finding ‘The World Script’ in Cait’s book shop. My struggles to make the Script do anything.

I tell her about the stray devil at my school, and discovering how to make the script work.

I tell her about gaining skill with the incredibly complicated and fiddly Script. About breaking into the supernatural world once I had something valuable to offer. And discovering at last how to potentially boost myself enough to actually compete.

I tell her about my experiments, and about my concern that there’s something coming, that I’m now too involved in the supernatural world to avoid completely. How this belief drove me to try and put my solution to my weakness into practice... perhaps sooner than I should have.

I finish talking and wait for Sarah to say something. Anything.

After far too long quiet, she finally speaks, leaning forward to put a gentle hand on my cheek, “Ericka,” That doesn’t sound good. That’s the tone of voice she uses on children that she babysits who’re throwing a tantrum when she’s trying to placate them.

I sigh, grimacing slightly. Both because of her tone, and because by now the painkillers are completely out of my system and my eyes have graduated from ache to stabbing burn, “I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Ericka, I love you, but you have to admit it’s pretty unbelievable.” Her weight settles back on my hips.

“Yup. It is. Which is why I need you to do two things which will prove what I’m saying.” My smirk dies before it can really appear as I grit my teeth, and I resist the urge to press on my empty eye sockets.

She doesn’t say anything, but that doesn’t stop me from hearing Sarah’s incredulity.

“Yes, proof. Get me my pain killers, a glass of water and...” I hesitate blushing.

“And?” Sarah demands flatly.

I sigh, which turns into a groan, “In the top left drawer of my desk is a sheet of paper with a weird design in the middle and... and naked girls in the corners.”

“Naked girls, Ericka?” And now she’s amused. Bitch.

“Get me my damn drugs, woman. Then we can worry about anything else,” I get out through clenched teeth.

“I swear, if this is just some strip club you don’t want to admit to having been to.” She starts to move off of me, and then faster when I start to swear at her.

As if I have time for a strip club.

Sarah grumbles all the way off the bed, and probably all the way to the pills, water, and flier, but I’m in too much pain to really pay attention.

She’s back quickly enough though, and helps me take the meds. We have to wait a bit for the pills to kick in, during which Sarah holds my hand and lets me squeeze it as much as I need to. She doesn’t even make any jokes about pregnancy, which I’m grateful for. Trying to hit her while blind would have been a pain.

Pun not intended.

Eventually though, my eyes calm down from red hot stabbing to a throbbing ache, and Sarah once again decides that she’s been patient enough, “So why do I have a cultish stripper flier, and what does it have to do with magic?”

I try to roll my eyes and regret it instantly. I hiss clutching my face for a moment as I wait for the pain to stop screaming in my skull, which it fortunately does quickly, “All right, look around. Is my stuff here? Or was it left at the vet?”

“You mean the place you got a job at for socially acceptable animal sacrifices?” Sarah asks dryly. “Yeah, I picked up your backpack before I came over.”

“Good, in one of the side pockets there should be a small folding knife. Get that.” Not being able to see is really frustrating.

I can hear Sarah moving around and opening zippers before returning, “Got it.”

“All right, now we just need to put some blood somewhere on the circle.” I hold out a hand so that she won’t have to cut herself. I’m used to it after all.

“What.”

I grit my teeth, “Sarah. I am trying to show you what I’m talking about, but I’m in pain, and what I’m trying to show you will fix my eyes. So, stop. Stalling. Either cut me, cut yourself, or give me the damn knife and let me do it.”

After a moment or two of silence there’s a soft hiss, “There,” Sarah’s voice is somewhat muffled and sounds irate, “I’ve cut myself and put my blood on your stupid flier... What the hell?” I probably shouldn’t be taking malicious satisfaction from this, but validation is sweet.

I just wish I could see her face, “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, what’s going on.”

“Your summoning was successful, child,” a friendly voice that’s palpably cold answers, instead of Sarah. The only reason I don’t jump is that I’ve been half expecting it.

“Oh good, it’s you,” I sigh in relief, “I was afraid I’d get your king.”

“I... What?” The verbal trip makes me smile, “You... you remember...?”

Her surprise makes me smile wider, “Yeah. Jackass’ fucking with my memory didn’t stick.”

Another pause in the conversation. Those are really annoying when I can’t see the expressions that go with them. My devilish guest snorts softly, which I guess means she can’t have been too upset, “I guess my prediction of you being unable to avoid trouble was correct.”

“In my defense, we don’t know if that’s true. I did this to myself, so it was trouble I went looking for. Whether or not I can avoid trouble has yet to be tested.” I’m bantering with a devil, it’s bizarre. I blame the drugs. I take a moment to refocus, “So if I understand how this works correctly, I ask you for something, you do it, and in payment you get a little bit of my soul or life force or something. Theoretically, a small enough piece that I won’t notice it missing?”

“Essentially,” the devil agrees, “though if you want help healing your eyes, I’m afraid that there is only one way I might help.”

I’m pretty sure I know what that way is, and I’m about to tell her ‘no’, when Sarah speaks first, “What way is that?” Her voice sounds more than a little faint.

“She could consent to join my peerage, become a devil herself. The process heals all wounds,” the Yuki Onna devil explains.

“First of all, congratulations on the promotion,” I cut in. “Second, not only no, but hell no. Keep your damn chess pieces to yourself.”

“Ericka!” Sarah almost shrieks, only lowering her voice to a pissed off whisper at the last moment. My parents are still down stairs after all. Not that it seemed to bother her earlier, “If this can heal you...!”

“I’m not giving up my free will for anything,” I tell her, and toss a “No offense” at the devil in the room. “Besides, I didn’t get you to summon her to heal my eyes.”

“What?” I think Sarah is nearing her limit on weird for the day. Her voice is the most bewildered I’ve ever heard her.

The devil speaks almost on top of her, “I must confess I am confused. If you did not summon me for your eyes, why did you?”

“I need you to give us a ride.”

“Us?” Sarah whispers.

“You want me to play taxi?” The devil sounds incredulous.

“How else am I supposed to get to the Vatican and back?”

###

******  
The Yuki Onna devil queen, whose name turns out to be Yasu, drops us off and agrees to pick us up a distance away from Vatican City in Rome. Apparently about as close as a devil can get to the center of church power safely. From that point forward, it’s just me and Sarah.

Sarah agreed to come along just as soon as her mind rebooted enough for her to realize that the alternative is me wandering around a foreign city on my own, while blind. Which leaves us now on our own, walking quietly down a sidewalk, my hand tucked into Sarah’s elbow so she can lead me around.

Sarah is thinking.

I dropped a lot on her in a very short period of time and now she’s trying to process it. She did the same thing the first time we were taught where babies come from in health class. Normally while she did this sort of thing, I’d people watch or read something while waiting for her to boot up again. Now though, all I can do is wait.

I’m really bad at waiting.

I’m about to break down and start asking questions about what’s around us when Sarah speaks up. She speaks softly, and sounds a little sad, “You’re planning on leaving, aren’t you?”

I... what? How? I have quite deliberately not told her about my goals. Pretty much for just this reason, it didn’t seem like a conversation to have in the middle of everything else going on at the moment.

“What...”

“I know you better than you know yourself, remember?” She laughs slightly, the normally bright sound is more than a little wet, “You don’t pick fights you don’t think you can win. And when you can’t avoid them you get away as soon as possible. You said yourself that you think that there’s something coming that’s out of your weight class. You also said that you’ve delved too deeply into this magic stuff to just ride it out. So, you’re planning to leave just as soon as you can.”

I’m kind of speechless. As it turns out she really does know me, and is really good at deductive reasoning. At least when it comes to me. Sarah isn’t the sort to cry often. And that I can hear tears in her voice and it’s because of me, makes me feel kind of horrid. I welcome the burning feeling my own tears produce falling into my damaged eyes, as a sort of penance for doing this to the best, and possibly most important, person in my life.

“That’s why you never asked anybody out, even when I knew you were attracted to them and I told you they were attracted to you. It’s why you were always against making new friends. You knew you were going to leave, and didn’t want to abandon anybody.”

Both of us are holding our composure together by a thread. “Find us someplace private to talk. We shouldn’t be having this conversation on the street.” My own voice is thick in a way I’ve never heard it before. Being older than my body resulted in my having not cried much as a child. The things that normally drove kids to tears weren’t that big of a deal to my larger experience. I’m pretty sure this is a first.

Quickly, Sarah leads me in a sharp turn and I can hear the environmental sounds around us change in a way that leads me to believe that we’re heading down an alleyway. We walk in tense silence for what feels like far too long. When the sound and the air movement opens up again, Sarah pulls me into a fierce hug.

“When were you going to tell me?” she demands quietly into the top of my head, the two of us holding each other close. “Were you just going to vanish one day? Leave me wondering what had happened to you?”

“No!” The very idea of doing that to my one constant companion since the age of five makes me feel sick, “I would never...! I don’t know how I would have told you. It’s something I’ve thought about a lot and I’ve never found a good way... I would have told you! I would have!” My voice is catching and I’m crying openly now. Sobs rack my body and the only thing I can do is clutch Sarah harder.

Sarah slowly eases us both to the ground, settling me into her lap and whispering soothing words into my hair. It’s all too much for me in that moment. The constant pressure to improve my skills, to discover a way to empower myself. Constantly looking over my shoulder for when some devil that won’t take no for an answer decides that my skill with World Script is too valuable to not have. The isolation that I’ve voluntarily condemned myself to. My parents, Sarah, and recently Cait as the only bright spots in the void of my social life. Getting so close to finally fixing my weakness, being able to maybe relax a little. Only to have my efforts destroy my eyes in a way that I still can’t explain. Finally being forced to confront the reality of what running from this reality would mean. It’s all too much, and all I can do in response is sob like the child I’ve never truly been in this life.

Somehow, Sarah knowing that I would be abandoning her, and her not only not blaming me, but trying to make me feel better, makes me feel so much worse.

###

Eventually, we cried ourselves out.

Sarah helps me to my feet and tucks my hand back into her elbow, “A perfect gentleman.” I try to kiss her on the cheek and get her ear instead, which reduces us both to giggling insensibility.

We spend the rest of the trip to the Vatican entrance reminiscing about various silly things we’d done with each other growing up. I also point out the various events where what was going on was actually magic. This results in an epic ‘I told you so’ when I admit that my sketching is really practice for drawing Script symbols.

Also a small beating about the shoulders.

Cruel woman, taking advantage of my inability to escape.

Getting into the Vatican and finding Asia is both easier and harder than I thought it would be. I didn’t really think that we could just walk in and wander around until we found her but... I guess I really haven’t thought past getting here.

My eyes exploded yesterday, I’m allowed to make mistakes.

They ask us why we’ve come and I don’t think they expected the answer to be, “My eyes exploded, we don’t know why.” Which fortunately is the truth. I have no idea why my Script had done this, and I hurt too much to really give it any thought now.

They have a doctor examine me to verify the diagnosis. I’m pretty sure that there are a few tests to determine if we’re devils or magicians or anything else that might be trying to sneak our way in as well. Honestly, it takes long enough that my pain meds start to wear off again and I quickly lose track of what’s going on around me.

Thank god for Sarah. I can vaguely hear her talking to people, and I’m sure that I wouldn’t have been able to talk to anybody in a coherent fashion, never mind convince them to help. I'd be pretty much screwed without her.

I’m sitting on a chair, face down on a table, regretting crying with every fiber of my being. It may have been cathartic and good for my mental health, but that much salt water in open wounds is just... it made everything worse.

“Ericka?” A hand on my shoulder and Sarah’s soft voice help me push through the pain giving me something immediate to focus on, “The Holy Maiden is here. Can you sit up?”

Holy Maiden? I thought we were here to see Asia... oh... yeah, that’s what they call her. I lever myself upright in my chair, Sarah’s hands helping to stabilize me, and turn my head, as though looking around, out of sheer habit.

I hear a gasp, then something in Italian. “What happened?” It’s a sweet voice, soft and young, speaking heavily accented English.

“‘Dunno,” I sort of slur through clenched teeth, “was at work, everything was fine, then wasn’t.”

“I see.” Small soft hands cup my cheeks and for the first time since yesterday I see something.

First it’s just a green light, then slowly other colors appear. The splotches of color resolve into a small face with bright green eyes, blonde hair, and a gentle smile. The pain vanishing is enough to make me dizzy. The world spins and because of that I almost miss the shocked look on the young girl’s face.

Everything is so much brighter than it had been.

I blink at her as the world steadies, “What? Did something go wrong?” I’m seized with worry that even the famed Twilight Healing hasn’t been able to fix everything, or that my Script has done something irreversible.

“Oh! No, it's just... um... well...” My god, she’s adorable.

But clearly there’s something wrong that she’s having trouble with. I twist in my chair to look behind me, where Sarah still has a hand on my shoulder. I meet her eyes and they widen in shock. “Ummmm...”

“Somebody tell me what’s wrong?” I very carefully do not shout. I assume that there are guards outside waiting to do something bad to us if we act at all suspiciously around their living saint.

All Sarah manages is to point off to one side. Looking around I find we’re in a very well appointed room, luxurious in the way only really old money can achieve. Thick carpet, wood paneled walls, the chair I’m sitting in is rich leather, and in the direction Sarah points, on one wall, is a mirror. I stand, wobbling as the last bit of dizziness fades, and make my way over to the mirror.

I look myself over, and my own eyes go wide. Mostly I’m unchanged. The same pale skin that doesn’t want to tan, the same plain features, the same boring straight brown hair. Where my eyes had been hazel though, now they’re an impossibly bright leaf green, with slit pupils. I literally have cat’s eyes.

I can’t help but feel this is a hint as to what had gone wrong.

“Well,” I turn back to the room, “it could be worse.”

“I’m so sorry I don’t know what went wrong I didn’t mean to I’ll fix it I mean I don’t know if I can fix it but I’ll try I promise...” Asia devolves into panicked babble. She really is too cute for words.

I’m across the room and in front of her on my knees in two strides. She’s actually taller than me like this, curse you mom for the short genes, but we’re much closer to looking each other in the eye. “Relax, you didn’t do anything wrong.” I reach out and tilt her face up to look at me, “I can see again. Even if my eyes are different, I’m not in pain, and I can see again though doctors told me that I never would. I actually think they’re kind of pretty.” I wink at her and get a giggle. Mission accomplished. “Thank you.” I hug her and she lets out the most adorable little squeak when I do. After a moment tiny arms wrap around me and she hugs me back.

After a moment we separate, and when I can see her face again she is smiling and blushing just a little. Too. Cute. For. Words, “You’re welcome,” she chirped at me.

I can’t help but smile back, “Here,” I reach into my pocket and pull out a pad of paper I always keep on hand and write on it quickly and clearly, “It’s my phone number, complete with country and area code, and my email address. If you ever need anything, even just to talk, don’t hesitate to get in touch with me. Okay?” It’s a long shot but...

“I will!” I blink at the unexpected and enthusiastic response. Asia's smile gets even bigger as she clutches the slip of paper to her chest. She has stars in her eyes as she looks at me, nodding. Dear god, it’s like she’s never had a friend before. I’m a bitch and I still have to fend them off on occasion. Okay, more often it’s desperate guys hitting on me. And she’s eight or nine. All right, maybe it’s not that unreasonable for her to be socially isolated enough to consider a stranger as a long distance friend.

I gave her my number in the hopes that when she gets excommunicated, she’ll call me for help and not get taken in by the fallen angels. If I remember anything about canon, it’s that Asia, out of everyone, got a raw deal. Hopefully, I can help her get a better future than being used by Fallen and ending up a devil’s harem girl.

I stand and look at Sarah, who has that little grin she gets when I do something that proves I’m not as mean as I try to act to our peer group, and just shake my head, “Where are the bandages?” I ask, looking around. Sarah holds them up and I quickly wrap my eyes in a single layer that I can still kind of see through.

“Um... why are you blindfolding yourself?” Asia asks in a quiet voice. She’s looking down and fiddling with the piece of paper I’d given her, “I thought you liked them?”

“Oh, sweety,” I’m going to end up with diabetes if I keep hanging around with this girl, “I like them just fine, but that doesn’t mean I want to explain them to anybody else. You’ve probably noticed by now, but a lot of people aren’t very nice to people who are different.”

Asia nods solemnly. Damn, that’s probably another reason she’s so isolated. The way the church treats her would make her different in the extreme. I can’t imagine kids reacting well to that. Not everybody is lucky enough to find a Sarah, after all.

My eyes hidden again, we exit the room... Come to think of it, what is that room for? I never realized how disorienting going to a strange place could be when you can’t see it and are too out of it to listen to explanations. We leave, escorted by the frankly ridiculous looking Papal Guard. I manage to wave to Asia before she’s escorted out of sight by another group of the Guard, and get an enthusiastic wave back.

Soon enough we’re outside the Vatican and back in Rome. I glance at Sarah, who’s smirking at me, “What?” I demand.

“You were pretty cute with that girl back there. Though isn’t she a bit young for you to be giving her your number?” Sarah teases.

“Oh, shut up.”

###

“They do look good on you,” Yasu tells me as she delivers us back to my room via her magic circle. I’ll admit to having delayed us leaving by taking the opportunity to examine a teleportation spell ready made in Script. It’s interesting. but I’m not sure I can make it work in the same way. It seems to depend on the way devils interact with magic to work. Still gives me some ideas about how I might achieve something similar.

“I just wish I knew why they happened. I’m not really upset, though I will need to invest in a lifetime supply of sunglasses. I just wish I knew what went wrong.” I move over and sit in my desk chair, Sarah flops on my bed, and Yasu stands primly where she had arrived, “I mean some of it is obvious. Clearly I didn’t do a good enough job of separating the physical components of the essence I tried to take from the essence itself. But why that resulted in...” I rotated a hand trying to think of the words I want.

“Your eyes spontaneously self-destructing?” Sarah offers.

I snap and point, “Yes. That. Why that resulted in my eyes spontaneously self-destructing, that I don’t know.”

“Well,” I glance over at where the devil queen still stands, a little startled by her speaking. I hadn’t quite forgotten she was there but I hadn’t really thought about it either. I’m not sure I want my methods getting out, but it’s not like there’s much I can do about it now. Besides, it’s not like I’m explaining how I did it, “if you wouldn’t mind a suggestion from an outside source?” I shake my head. “It seems fairly clear to me, the human body is not very mutable. It’s possible to change things if you are patient and start early enough. Give the body time to grow into its new shape. At your age though, and all at once?” She shakes her head.

What she says makes a certain amount of sense. My eyes tried to go from matte retinas, round pupils, and hazel irises, to reflective retinas, slit pupils, and bright green irises. In doing so, the tissues with no mechanism for change pulled themselves apart.

How do I fix that, though?

I glance at the Yuki Onna. Devils turned humans into more of themselves all the time. Devils have a radically different physiology than humans do too, but I’ve never heard of a reincarnated devil exploding. So clearly there is some way to do it. I doubt that she’d just hand over an Evil Piece for me to study for the asking, though.

I’m trying to figure out how to obliquely ask about if they lost any pieces and where they might go, when we’re interrupted. The sound of the front door opening and slamming shut accompanies the sounds of my parents arrival and the sound of them arguing.

Loudly.

I glance at Yasu, “Thank you for the help, but you should probably make yourself scarce. This conversation is going to be hard enough as it is.”

The queen nods and hands both Sarah and me another flier. “As insurance,” she says and winks at me, before vanishing along with her spell circle.

Sarah and I settle into silence as we listen to my parents yell at each other downstairs. It’s something both of us are unfortunately used to. It’s only when they start accusing each other of being responsible for my disappearance, that I realize this might be somewhat more serious than normal.

“Sarah, how long were we gone?” I ask in a choked whisper.

Sarah’s eyes go wide, which is really enough of an answer. I spring to my feet and dash down the stairs, Sarah follows at a more sedate pace. I burst into the living room to see my mother glaring at my father, face red. Meanwhile my father has his arms crossed and is looking up at the ceiling and gritting his teeth.

“Mom! Dad!” I yell quickly to take advantage of the moment of silence before they start in on each other again.

Both of their heads snap in my direction, and mom comes running up to me and pulls me into a hug, “Oh Ericka, baby! Where were you? You just disappeared and...” She trails off looking up at me and noticing my new eyes, “Your eyes! What happened, they’re...?”

“Yeah... Sorry I disappeared on you, but Sarah was taking me to get them fixed. I uh... I have a lot of explaining to do.”

We settle into the living room with my parents on the couch and myself in an armchair. Once we’re all comfortable, I start once again, explaining to them everything that I had explained to Sarah earlier. My past life, magic, my attempts to become more than I am.

Mom’s face is going through a gamut of emotions. I think she’s going over every time I’ve used magic as an excuse and realizing that I’ve been telling her the truth. Dad might as well have been carved of stone. Compared to mom’s look of horror as I got to the ‘school shooting’ and the risks I’ve taken, dad’s face only twitched. I told them about what my job at the bookstore really involved, and how I spend most of my time helping the second class citizens of the supernatural world. I end with what had happened to my eyes, and how I called in a favor to get us to Rome where there’s a miracle healer who had fixed my eyes.

“Oh, you poor thing.” My mother has her hands clasped in front of her mouth, tears in her eyes, “You didn’t have any help at all? You must have been so scared...”

“Get out.” My world stalls.

“What?”

“I said get out!” Dad thunders surging to his feet.

“I don’t...” This can’t be happening.

“You are not my daughter,” dad snarls, closing in on me.

“Dad...” Mom is saying something behind him. She may have been shouting, but all I can hear is my dad’s voice condemning me, and a ringing in my ears.

“You are some... thing that took my daughter's body, what did you do with her? Where is my daughter?!” I’ve never seen him so angry before...

“Daddy...”

I should have seen it coming. It’s slow, sloppy, and telegraphed as hell. My coach would’ve been so disappointed in me for letting it land, but right up until his palm hits my cheek I can’t believe that my daddy would actually slap me.

My head rocks to the side just enough to dissipate some of the force, but otherwise I don’t respond. Just like taking a hit in boxing, I try not to let the fact it landed show.

“You don’t get to call me that!” He reaches back to slap me again, and as he does I realize numbly that this one is probably going to land too.

Then Sarah is there catching dad’s hand. She tosses him back away from me with a technique from Jiu Jitsu that I remember helping her learn. Mom is red faced with tear tracks down her cheeks, I think she’s probably screaming at dad from the way she looks. Sara puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me out the door. She puts me in the passenger seat of my car, she had gotten my keys from somewhere, and moments later she’s driving us away.

###

I haven’t been home in weeks, and in some ways my life has gotten easier. No more arguments about college. The only reason I still go to high school is because Sarah is there. We somehow manage to get even closer after my confession about what’s really going on, and we spend most of our free time together, doing homework and then just chatting while I work on Script. She, unlike me, is getting ready to go to college, and I help how I can by telling her what I remember about my first time through college in my last life.

Mom and dad separated pretty much the moment Sarah and I were out the door. According to mom, they had been staying together for the sole purpose of providing me a more stable home life. Once dad had thrown me out mom saw no reason to stick around. So she’d left to move back in with her parents, leaving my father alone in the house. I would have found it odd that mom didn't demand that I follow her back to my grandparents’ place, but the first time I spoke to her after the... incident, was a day later, and mom was talking to Cait when I wandered into the store.

I never did get a good explanation of what the two were talking about, but I'm pretty sure Cait said something convincing. Mom never mentioned me moving in with her. We visit a lot. Many lunches are had as we talk about how the divorce is proceeding, what I’m doing with my time, and if I’m taking care of myself. We talk about everything, except me moving back in with her.

In the end, I don't feel like I should ask. Cait's people skills don't actually involve fae magic of any sort. She’s actually just really good with people. So my bet is that she somehow... talked mom around? There’s a first time for everything, and I really need the space. Mom, as much as she tries, can't really go more than ten minutes without saying something about dad. Which is a reminder I really don't need right now. Since nobody is getting mind controlled and the outcome doesn't end with me in a parental pressure cooker, I leave it alone.

Instead, Cait takes me in without even so much as blinking. She set up a spare room in the back of the store near my workroom for me. I also continue my job at the vet, it’ll be too handy once I fix the exploding problem. I wear sunglasses everywhere now, and use the excuse that my eyes are hypersensitive to light after whatever happened. Everybody just nods sympathetically and we get on with our frequently depressing jobs.

Most of my coping mechanism though, is working on Script, trying to figure out how to fix the aforementioned exploding problem. I know that the devils already have it beat, so I figure the easiest option is to see how they did it. To that end, I ask around to see how hard it would be to get my hands on an Evil Piece. Not even to keep, just to put through an analysis Script to see how the damned things work.

As it turns out, it’s not hard to get one. One of the comparatively few contacts I got through the recommendations of the mage association came through for me almost immediately. As it turns out, every time a stray devil is killed, it’s Piece is left behind after the rest of it dissolves. So any bounty hunters that deal in strays are all but rolling in the things. The devils pay a bounty for the return of the Pieces, so given that I just want to borrow the thing, fulfilling my request basically means they get paid twice.

I have a rook piece the day after I make the request.

Rather than dumping into my mind, I have the results of the analysis Script print themselves out on a ream of paper. Devil magic shapes itself as World Script for whatever reason, so that’s convenient, no need to translate into something I can understand. Unfortunately, I end up needing three reams.

So I deal with the way that my life has imploded by losing myself in the work of understanding what goes into the Evil Pieces. The good news is that my fluency in Script has shot through the roof. I’m pretty sure that I can actually write, read, and speak Script like an actual language now.

The bad news is that Beelzebub deserves every bit of his reputation as a genius. Even if he doesn’t have to work with actual Script, and I’m not betting against the idea he does anyway, I’ve learned more about Script and how to make it work from reading the analysis of his work than I have in the last nine years. Which is kind of depressing. And I still haven’t found how they convert humans into devils without also turning them into a fine red mist.

I’ve been reading Script for the last three weeks straight, and I’m still only a third of the way through what the rook had produced. It’s ridiculous.

My head thuds against the stacks of paper on my desk and I groan in frustration. “Still no luck?” Sarah asks from where she’s been writing essays for college applications on my experiment table.

“No,” I moan, “it never ends. I’m dreaming in Script now, but still no idea how they make the human form mutable.”

“If it was simple it wouldn’t have taken Beelzebub to come up with it,” Cait mentions from the door, making us two humans in the room jump.

As soon as my heart rate slows I turn to look at her, “You think it’s just beyond me? An ‘I’m not Tony Stark’ situation?”

Cait snorts and moves around the room to me and pats my head. “Kitten,” she likes that nickname even more now that I have cat eyes. She ‘wore’ hers more often now as well, in some act of solidarity, “The man has millennia on you. Given what you’ve figured out in the twelve years I’ve known you, if we give you a century I think you’d figure it out for yourself. That being said, there’s nothing wrong with having somebody else catch your dinner for you.” Her eyes gleam with pure feline amusement, “That’s what lesser creatures are there for, after all.”

“I have always been more of a cat person,” I admit with a small smile.

“See? I always said you were smart.” She leans down and rubs the top of my head with her cheek and starts towards the door again, “Don’t let what’s happened with your father stifle the determination that got you this far. Still say you should let me see if I can still do my old job.”

I flinch slightly at the idea. Cait had been a changeling after all. A punishment delivered by the fae to parents who can’t be trusted with their children. In cases like that, the child is taken and a changeling like Cait is left in their place. The changeling then proceeds to do terrible things to the parents until they aren’t a problem any more. Usually this ends with the adults in question dead. Cait however had been gifted enough to leave her ‘foster parents’ alive, just insane.

I’m flattered that she wants to take up old habits on my behalf, but I’m not sure I’m quite ready to have my father condemned to madness. Sarah has hit me harder, after all. She claims that it’s not at all the same thing, but I’m having trouble internalizing that for some reason.

“She’s a little weird, isn’t she?” Sarah asks, looking over her shoulder at where the fae had been, and I turn back to my reading.

“Little bit, but I haven’t met a supernatural that isn’t.”

“Then you’ll fit right in.”

“Shut up.”

“Now, now, it’s important that you accept these truths. Self delusion...”

“No really, shut up.” I’m frantically reading through what I just found.

“You’ve got something?” Sarah sounds just as excited as I am. She’s been my sounding board for the last several weeks, after all. She’s probably more excited to see this search end than I am, if only so I’ll stop babbling at her about it.

“Yeah, let me just get through this...”

It takes me another hour to finish the section in question, and it does indeed look like the answer I’ve been searching for.

“It’s the soul,” I explain, sitting back in my chair and rubbing my eyes. I’m beginning to get a headache, but hopefully this marks the end of this particular search.

“I thought the soul was the only part of this that was working as expected,” Sarah frowns.

“That part is working fine. The soul has no trouble integrating the new essence. Which is exactly the point. What the pieces do when they turn somebody into a devil, is they take that person’s soul and... merge it with the physical flesh, granting the body some degree of the soul’s infinite adaptability.” I’m getting excited, I have an answer. An answer that violated goal six, but that’s fixable.

Sarah looks a little disturbed, “What happens when the body is destroyed then?”

I hesitate for a moment, then shrug, “I guess the soul would be destroyed as well.”

“I’m not sure that’s worth it,” Sarah shivers.

I shrug. “There’s a reason I’m going out of my way to avoid it,” I agree.

“So what are you going to do?”

I settle back to think about it. It’s an awkward issue. On the one hand, this will get me a lot of the advantages of devildom, at the same cost. My soul. Which I’m not willing to give up.

So... my first thought is, does it have to be my soul?

And if I can use somebody else's, am I ready to kill another human being for my own advancement?

“Ericka?” Sarah calls softly, and I look up.

I shake my head and sit up again, “Right. Sorry. My first thought is to use somebody else's.”

Sarah stares at me, “What.”

“Take a soul, scrub it clean of lingering influences, and then use the method provided,” I point at the reams of paper filled with Script, “to perform the merge. The virtue of devil magic expressing as Script is that I just have to copy the right parts of that,” I wave a hand at the stacks of paper, “and it should work as intended.”

“So, you’re going to kill someone?” Sarah doesn’t sound all that comfortable with the idea.

"That's certainly... an option. But there are other things we should probably try first," I admit. I know that I'll have to kill somebody eventually. It's just how the world I’m heading for works. Especially as I’m operating mostly on my own. Without anybody to make killing me seem like a bad idea, I’ll have to make the attempt seem ill advised on my own. Still, I feel no real need to rush that particular first. "Before we go to murder lets see if there are other sources."

Sarah looked relieved. I’m not so sure she should relax just yet.

###

My first try is Cait, she seems able to get anything else I've asked for with minimal effort.

The look I get from her when I ask about purchasing black market souls doesn't fill me with confidence though. "Ericka," she starts slowly, "this thing you do with moving essences around? Pieces of them even? Nobody else does that. Removing and storing souls is... Look, the Evil Pieces don't really move souls. They just manipulate what’s already there. Even when devils still ate souls they did it quickly using flesh as a medium. Souls without an anchor don't last long. They move on. I mean, how would you do it? Store a soul I mean?"

She has a point. I have no idea how I would go about storing what I’m manipulating for any real length of time. Lesser essences I think I can do. With enough time to work on it, but souls?

This kicks off a several month research and experimentation binge. Souls are the order of the day, and once again my job at the vet proves its worth. Animal souls are the first thing I try. They aren't... big enough, however, for lack of a better term. Infinitely adaptable they may be, but apparently not infinite in substance.

I try composite souls next. Stitching multiple animal souls together like Frankenstein's monster. I'll admit I’m glad when I can't get the things to hold together. Even scrubbed clean of any trace of what they had been, the animal souls don't merge with each other, or even stick close together. And I really don't want them to be one with my body when they inevitably fly apart. I suppose it's possible that flesh would hold them in place, but I’m not exactly willing to take the chance. Besides the damned things are creepy as hell.

Sarah finds me at the end of the three month flurry of experimentation once again face down on the table, "Nothing?"

"Not quite nothing. I've learned a lot. Just nothing useful," I admit looking up at her, "The only thing I haven't tried is getting a bigger soul and paring it down to fit. But even Cait can't smuggle me an elephant or a whale, and the only other sources of correctly sized souls bring us back to murder."

"So you're going to kill somebody?" Sarah asks again, still not looking comfortable, but much more resigned to the idea after having watched me try everything else I can think of.

Am I? I’d already resolved to kill nonhuman supernaturals, even if they are intelligent. So then the question becomes, is there a difference between supernaturals and humans? I... kinda want to say ‘no’. Saying that killing is less murder because the victim isn’t my species seems wrong.

So if it’s the same no matter the species, and I’m already going to kill supernaturals, “Yeah... I kinda think I am.”

Sarah stares at the table where she’s fiddling with her fingers, “Who...?”

“Who will I murder?” She flinches slightly, but nods. “Well... My first instinct is to put on some really slutty clothes, wander around the bad part of town late at night, and wait for somebody to try and rape me,” I shrug as Sarah jerks her head up to stare at me. “I figure anybody willing to attack and sexually assault a teenage girl only falls short of Nazis in terms of acceptable targets.”

There are a few moments of silence before Sarah dissolves into laughter and I follow shortly behind. It seems my logic is valid. I’m glad that Sarah is still with me. I don’t think I could have handled her leaving me too.

###

It takes a few weeks for me to isolate the part of the rook’s Script that I want and rewrite it into a Script that will work for what I need. I spend a lot of time putting every purification, cleaning, renewing, and anything else of the sort that I can find, into the Script. I’m making really sure nothing of the person I’m taking the soul from will stick around. The last thing I want is any part of the sort of person I’m planning to sacrifice, influencing me.

Once that’s ready though, it’s time to actually do the deed.

Getting dressed for this particular outing is bizarre. I’ve never really been one for shopping or clothes, always too busy training to really relax into it. Now though, with clothes being necessary, I find myself actually enjoying the process of picking out an outfit. Trying on various combinations and seeing how it all worked together is actually a lot of fun, with the right company.

Of course, there are still problems. My wardrobe is severely lacking, as most of my clothes are still at my parents house. A place I am, I think understandably, reluctant to visit. Sarah’s clothes don’t really fit me, her being taller than me, curvier than me... they just didn’t fit. Which means I end up dressed mostly in Cait’s clothing.

The final outfit has me dressed in a shoulderless leather corset cinched tight enough to give me something that actually resembles cleavage. Not a lot, but it’s there. An impressive optical illusion. A miniskirt that doesn’t restrict my movements simply because there isn’t enough of it to restrict anything. Rounding it out are a pair of knee high boots with a low broad heel that’s more like what I’d expect to find on work boots. They won’t slow me down or mess with my balance at all. Sarah does my make up, another thing I’ve never bothered with before, and I’m ready to go.

I stand back and do a twirl, “How do I look?”

“Somewhere between a street walker and a clubber looking to get laid.” Sarah isn’t overly thrilled with my choices in the end, especially when we had managed several much nicer looks.

I shrug, “Subtlety and class will be wasted on my target audience.”

Sarah snorts, “Fine, but now that you’re not fighting me on this, we’re going clothes shopping later.”

My mouth opens for my traditional denial before I pause . It had been fun, it would probably be more fun with more options. I would probably also be able to pick out things to stuff Sarah in as well, unlike this time which was all focused on me. And I do need more clothes. “You know what, sure. Assuming I don’t manage to make something else go horribly wrong tonight, we’ll celebrate with a shopping trip.”

Sarah bounces and squees happily. I just roll my eyes, grab my tiny clutch purse with bone chalk, a cell phone, and a knife in it, and head for the car.

“Good hunting!” Cait calls as we leave the bookshop. I’m pretty sure that she’s proud of her ‘kitten’ going out to get her first kill. It‘s something I’m not looking at too closely

###

The bad part of downtown where I’m dropped off is... well bad. The streets are uncleaned and the gutters are choked with debris overflowing from the storm drains. And even though it's what I’m after, the looks I get from the various people hanging out on various stoops and staircases make me shiver.

I establish a pattern where I wander down a street for a ways then turn down an alleyway, my head down broadcasting ‘victim’ as hard as I can. When nothing happens, I emerge back onto the street and go another stretch before heading down a different alley. This results in an S like pattern of movement, with plenty of opportunities for me to be ambushed.

As I’m literally asking for it, it doesn’t take long for me to get a bite. Of course, the plan was immediately trashed. When I had imagined how this would go in my head, it was a single person following me down an alleyway. I’d knock them out, and they’d stay unconscious through the rest of the procedure, leaving me undisturbed while I worked.

So, of course, I get four, two at each end of the alley and closing rapidly. I don’t have a lot of time to decide how I’m going to handle this. I’d need to drop them all quickly, there would be no time for banter or anything else, and I can’t let all four of them reach me at once. I would have to end each fight fast, and in such a way that I don’t have to worry about them again once I put them down.

I keep my head down and walk faster, trying to pretend that I only noticed the two behind me. When I’m the right distance away from the two in front of me, I lunge forward, slamming a jab into the first man’s throat. The punch is jerky and awkward as I force myself to ignore the habits I’ve gained in sparring, to only hit in certain places or so hard. The crunch the man’s throat produces almost freezes me.

Fortunately, only almost.

I drive the edge of my foot into the side of the second man’s knee, collapsing it. Much more smoothly, I pivot to deliver a hard straight to number two’s jaw right below his ear. His jaw dislocates and he slumps to the ground unconscious.

I spin on the ball of my foot to face the last two. Both of them have wide eyes, staring at me in shock. I guess they didn’t expect the scantily clad five foot three girl to drop their two compatriots, never mind that quickly.

One of them seems to be trying to get something out of his waistband, struggling to get it untangled from his shirt. That one becomes number three and I rush him before he can free whatever he has. A push kick slams the ball of my foot into his stomach knocking him backwards, and knocking the wind out of him, from his pained gasping.

Number four is more on the ball though, and a hard punch slams into the side of my head. I stagger sideways, “Yeah! Take that you bit...” I turn and interrupt his posturing by breaking his nose. He staggers backwards clutching his face and swearing. I pull the knife in my bag free. Forcing myself not to think about what I’m doing, I drive the knife upwards into the man’s left armpit, severing a major artery. A follow up hard punch to the solar plexus keeps him from making noise until he finishes bleeding out.

Movement out of the corner of my eye makes me duck and turn. Number three has regained his feet and pulled free a snub-nosed revolver. I throw my knife at him almost out of reflex. It spins past him, missing narrowly, which is honestly better than I expected. I have no idea how to throw a knife after all. But it does make him flinch, which is what I’m really after.

I close as fast as I can and kick the gun, still he manages to get a shot off. The report is deafening, and I manage to get to the gun at the last possible moment. I feel a line of fire along my ribs that I force myself to ignore, and stomp on the man’s ankle. A sharper crunch followed by a high pitched scream tells me my distraction worked.

While number three rolls on the ground clutching his ankle, I have all the time in the world to retrieve my knife, stab it into the side of his neck, and cut out.

I stand there trembling as the adrenaline fades. It takes me three tries to get my knife back into my purse, and it’s only then I notice that my hands are covered in blood. I force myself not to throw up, as much as I want to. I have no idea if vomit contains enough DNA traces to be connected to me, and I’m unwilling to take the chance.

Moving in a daze, it occurs to me that I can’t perform my ritual here. With the gunshot and the screaming, somebody will have called the police, and I don’t want to be found here.

So with a grunt of effort, I shift the only one left alive into a fireman’s carry and get the hell out of Dodge. Fortunately, isolated alleys aren’t uncommon in this part of town, so I find another that will work for my purposes pretty quickly.

I drop the soon to be corpse far enough away from where I’ll be working that he won't be able to ambush me, and get to work. The Script circle takes far longer to draw than it should have, with the way my hands are trembling. I have to go very slowly to avoid mistakes, which I can’t afford. I nearly ruin everything anyway, when I jump at hearing sirens in the direction I came from, but they never get any closer so I manage to ignore them.

Finally I have everything written out and triple checked. My cell phone has pictures of the relevant parts of the rook’s Script that I check against as well. Everything looks accurate, which is good, because I’m exhausted. I kick the man in the head again just to make sure that he won’t wake up inconveniently, and carry him to his place. I take mine next to him, grab my knife, and position it over his heart ready to stab... and hesitate.

Both my hands grip the handle of the knife hard enough for my knuckles to turn white. Where they aren’t red from punching people or from my victim’s blood. The blade trembles in my grip. For some reason this is much harder. I’ve already killed three people, why would a fourth make a difference at this juncture?

Because I’m not fighting? So far everything I’ve done could be argued as self defense. Sure, I had put myself into a situation where I needed to defend myself, but they still made the first aggressive actions. I had legitimate reason to fear for my life, and had acted with sufficient violence to make myself safe.

Now though, my victim is unconscious on the ground, no threat to anybody. Never mind me, who put him there. Without adrenaline and with time to think, this is a very different act.

I close my eyes, and the image of the broken children the stray devil left behind fills my mind. Specifically, the little girl who’d been stepped on, her legs crushed. In my mind, when she looks up at me, it’s my face at that age I see. That could have so easily been me, maybe should have been me with the way I’d followed them.

It still could be me.

The knife drives down. The man dies, and the Script activates. Something unfathomably large and profoundly small is thrust into my body. With a feeling like being set on fire, it fuses to my every cell.

Moments later the feeling fades and I collapse to the ground breathing hard. I feel sore all over, but manage to force myself to my feet and collect the knife and my purse. Fishing the cellphone out of my purse with great difficulty I, smearing blood on the screen, call Sarah to pick me up.

###

Sarah swears when she sees me, but helps me into the car and drives me to her house, like we planned. Like she insisted, she really didn’t want me alone the night after I’d done this. She manages to smuggle me inside, and upstairs to her room. I strip my bait clothes off, handing them to Sarah so she can hide them until they can be washed the next day and returned to Cait. I almost miss her hiss at finding the ripped part of the corset, and the corresponding gash in my side, where the bullet grazed me.

She pushes me into her bathroom with a bar of antibacterial soap and tells me to wash thoroughly. The door shuts behind me and I find myself again staring into a mirror at myself. Aside from my new eyes, I don’t look that different. I feel like I should, though. Whether from the soul fusion, or having killed four men, it seems like there should be some change.

There are injuries though, more than I remember. The black eye, and the slowly seeping rent in my side are expected. A handprint bruise on my shoulder, the extra bruises on my ribs, the second bruise on my cheek, I don’t remember getting hit there. Which I’m pretty sure is a bad thing.

Still, I manage to shower, scrubbing myself and my wounds clean. Sarah has pajamas waiting for me and helps to bandage my side. It’ll scar but I sort of feel like it should.

As a reminder of some sort.

After dressing me in my night clothes, Sarah leads me to her bed and climbs in behind me, holding me close. For the longest time I just lie there, but slowly the night and everything else catches up with me, and for the second time Sarah quietly holds me while I cry.


	7. Book 1 - Tattoos

Age Eighteen

Fighting is a very different experience than it was even a few weeks ago. Watching the blunted steel coming down at me through my visor slit in almost slow motion is just odd, and the speed of my reactions threw me rather significantly at first. Now, though, it feels like I have all the time in the world to move my own sword at the perfect angle. A moment of impact, before I roll around my opponent’s blade, pushing it down and out and sending him off balance. My armored hip crashes into his armored hip, my forward leg slides forward between his, and my off-hand latches onto his gauntleted wrist. A simple twist sends him over my hip to the ground. Of course, this isn’t entirely unexpected from me, so he rolls to his feet smoothly.

Rolland, my opponent, is huge. He stands well over six feet and if he weighs less than two hundred pounds out of armor, I’ll be shocked. He’s a giant, and bats anybody who stands against him around like they’re tennis balls. My five-foot-one self has no business trying to match strength with this man, though because of my muscle mass, I do weigh more than one might expect.

Rolland is also my favorite sparring partner.

He’s not quite the same as fighting a devil, who can shatter a skyscraper with a punch, but after a certain point, a larger difference in strength is simply academic. My method of dealing with the disparity is all precision, speed, foot work, and trying to be as much like smoke as I can manage. I dodge when at all possible, deflect when it isn’t, and try to hit them first to make them think twice, when I have to. I stop-blocked Rolland once, and he tossed me a good three feet.

Now, though, everything I experience during a fight is beginning to change. After I recovered from my... bloody adventure, and I did a little further testing on dual souled animals to make sure nothing had to change too much with the Scripts, I went a little nuts.

Another cat for reflexes, a hawk I caught myself, for even more improved vision, a bat for hearing, a bloodhound for sense of smell, and a lizard for a start on improved healing. I’d considered sacrificing a pit viper of some sort for it’s thermal sense, but decided that adding new senses might also alter my brain to process them, and any brain change is more than I’m comfortable with. I did sacrifice a gecko to try and get the ability to climb on walls, Spiderman style. Unfortunately, the attractive force isn’t nearly strong enough to overcome my body weight.

It also took a few more tries to completely remove the physical bleed-over with how much more my body is willing to change. The hawk turned my eyes a very unnerving, almost primary yellow, and the bat added a point to my ears that I’m not quite sure what to think about. Fortunately, it took only the two more tries to fix the problem. The eyes are off-putting with the slit pupils, but Sarah assures me that my ears are more Tolkien elf than anything else. I think it looks odd, but the ears are easy enough to hide under my hair, and sunglasses solve the eye problem. Besides, the benefits I’m already seeing are more than worth the degradation in my looks, which were never really something worth mentioning in the first place.

My ears let me get an almost constant three dimensional awareness of Rolland as he comes to his feet, his back to me. He starts to twist, even as I lunge forward, into a wide backswing to make me keep my distance. Two months ago it would have worked. Now, though, I can hear the swing coming. I can smell the lactic acid build up in his muscles, showing how much harder he’s having to work to keep up with me. The sword seems to move in slow motion, giving me all the time in the world to duck under it by dropping to one knee. My return stroke cuts his leg out from under him, and the world speeds up again as he again crashes to the ground, this time flat on his back.

A quick twist on the balls of my feet lays my sword across his chest and neck. The tap of my sword on his breastplate causes both of us to pause, then with a groan, Rolland goes limp on the ground, arms flopping out, sword dropping, and shield falling flat .

“What the hell have you been eating the last few weeks?” His voice is a pleasant rumble, muted slightly by his helmet.

I shrug, standing and offering a hand to help him up, “Dunno. Just having a good month I guess.” I’m grinning. Rolland and I have fought a lot, and he usually wins. The difference in reach and strength too much to overcome. Now, though, with just improved reflexes and senses, and none of them supernatural in nature, I’m breaking even in wins and losses.

I can’t wait to see what I’ll be capable of once I get a few real boosts.

Rolland groans, “Does that mean I can expect another two weeks of this?” He sounds grumpy but I can see his smile under his helmet’s face cage as he takes my hand. I plant both my feet and lean way back, pulling with my entire body to provide any aid in getting him upright. Fortunately, once there, he’s more than strong and massive enough to casually tug me back onto my feet.

“Nope,” I shook my head, “that’s actually something that I wanted to talk to you about. Now that high school is over I’ve decided to do a bit of traveling. I’m leaving with Sarah to help her move into her new dorm in LA, then I’m off to places... well, not unknown, but certainly not here.”

There’s a moment of silence as we stare at each other through our helmets. Then Rolland pulls off his, running a gauntleted hand over short cropped blond hair, and raises an inquisitive eyebrow at me. Probably repeating the gesture he’d just made under his helmet, only to realize I couldn’t see it.

“Yes?” I pause, “You can’t see it, but I’m raising an eyebrow back at you.”

Rolland laughs, “Of course. So you’re running off and only telling us about it now?”

I shrug, “I only knew it was happening a few days ago.”

“Hmmm.” The big man stares at me with narrow eyes. Then a truly evil grin spreads across his face, “Listen up everybody!” he booms into the large space. We practice in a small refurbished warehouse. Which still means it’s huge on an individual level. It easily fits thirty people, twenty of those are in armor, and right now every single one of them is looking our way.

“Rolland, what are you...” I try to ask, but the giant just ignores me.

“Ericka has informed me that she will be leaving us for an unknown period of time to travel the world.” The loud ‘aww’ sound is heartwarming. I’ve been practicing with most of these guys since I was five or six years old. I’ve known most of them for practically all my life. I’ve never connected with them the same way I have with Sarah, not for Rolland's lack of trying. Sort of. There had been one ill-fated attempt to ask me out that we don’t talk about any more. It had resulted in my first kiss, though, as I grabbed another female fighter that happened to be walking past to demonstrate what I meant when I said, ‘not interested’. She’d slapped me but had laughed afterwards, so it was all worth it. “So since this will be her last day with us, we have to say goodby in the traditional manner.” What? No! No nonononononono! I start backing up to try and escape only to bump into somebody behind me. While I had been thinking, they surrounded me, “That’s right folks! It’s time for the Goodby Gauntlet!”

The loud cheer does nothing to raise my spirits as I watch the rest of the fighters form a line along the back wall. Rolland waits in the center of the clear area strapping his helmet back on, that evil grin having only gotten worse.

This is going to suck and, for some reason, I can’t stop smiling.

###

“All of them?” Sarah giggles next to me, taking joy in my pain.

I’m sore all over. I’ve never fought so long without a break in my life. “All twenty,” I confirm, “twice.”

“Twice?” Sarah dissolves into giggles again, and I just sigh.

“Yes, twice,” I confirm again and push through the crowds. We’ve just disembarked from the short-hop flight to LAX. I spent most of the flight asleep, and Sarah, wonderful girl that she is, left me undisturbed until we landed. Which means she was getting her schadenfreude at my beating the night before, now.

“None of the places I trained at had fun going away traditions like that,” Sarah pouts.

I roll my eyes, “Don’t sound so disappointed, I feel tenderized.” I keep moving. If I stop, Sarah would take the opportunity to poke more fun at me. My best move is to make her chase me, that way she won’t be able to build up a full head of steam.

We make it to the baggage claim with Sarah only getting a few more digs at my willingness to fight forty times in a row for the sake of tradition. Not that I’m putting up much of a fight in the end. I’m doubting my intelligence as well. She collects her suitcases, and I grab my bag, and a last carrying case. It’s the sort of thing that you carry full sized painting canvases in. Large, square, and awkward as hell.

We grab a taxi for the sake of convenience and are quickly at the mercy of LA traffic.

Moving into dorms is the same no matter where or when I do it. Dorm rooms are pretty much the same, too. Lots of carrying heavy, awkward things up and down stairs to a tiny room. Sarah seems pretty happy, though. Not that I don’t understand, it’s the first time that she has a place that’s independent of her parents. That’s always something special.

“Soooo...” Sarah drops onto the bed as she puts down the last of the bags she carried, “what’s in the giant case? You’ve been cagey about it since mom picked you up.”

“First of all, I wasn’t being cagey, I was resenting my upright posture,” I tell her primly. “Second, in this case,” I pat the giant square container, “I have safety, peace of mind, and company.”

“If you’re offering me a ‘toy’, I don’t want it,” Sarah says, waggling her eyebrows, trying to keep a straight face, and failing dismally.

Calmly, I stand and collect one of her pillows, and respond in the only way I believe to be appropriate. I smack her in the face.

Sarah shrieks, laughing, grabs a pillow of her own, and the battle is joined. We’re enthusiastic enough that pretty soon we’re in the hallway, and attracting a bit of an audience. Two girls, one very attractive, who have been practicing martial arts and acrobatics for most of their lives? We may have shown off a bit.

More than a bit.

Once the RA chases us back into Sarah’s room and we close and lock the door, we turn back to the case. The first things to come out of the large carrying case are six palm-sized discs of intricately wrought Script symbols, in silver wire. They are by far some of the most complex pieces of Script I’ve ever created. It would have been impossible if I hadn’t figured out a Script to make things shrink. However, with that, I can make the things a size easy to manipulate, and then shrink them to a size more convenient for being subtle.

I activate each of them, then Sarah helps me place one on each wall, the ceiling and floor, “These should keep anything supernatural or intending you harm out of the room,” I explain to her as we set them up.

The next thing I pull from my case of tricks is another intricately crafted piece of silver. This one, only the size of a quarter and hanging from a chain, “This’ll give you some protection out of your room, and should let you know if anything supernatural is nearby.” I wave her over and put it around her neck. “I’d have done something with the chain and the clasp, but even with the shrinking trick they’re a bit too small to put anything on,” I shrug, but Sarah, blushing slightly, turns and hugs me.

“Thanks,” she murmurs and I hug her back.

“Don’t thank me yet, there’s one more thing in there.” I gesture at the case that still looks entirely full.

The last thing to emerge is a three foot by three foot square of particle board. On the surface of it I’ve carved a Script circle and inlaid copper wire into the grooves.

“Okay. I’m confused, not silver this time?” Sarah asks, taking the board.

“I did this one first and used copper because even though silver is a better energy conductor, I thought copper would be cheaper and I’d need a lot of it for this,” I wave at the board. “I really should have checked prices first. Anyway, this is the result of my efforts to figure out teleportation.”

Teleportation by Script is a textbook example of why one should never confuse ‘simple’ with ‘easy’. Script teleportation is very simple. All you need is a very detailed description of where you want to go. The entire script reads ‘there is a place where the rocks lie in this way, and the trees grow thusly’, on and on. Eventually, when sufficient detail has been provided, the place you are describing becomes the same as the place where you are for just a moment, and then you’re there. The problem? It’s really hard to get a sufficient description. I’m pretty sure that devils get around this by way of their damned imagination-magic. Their intent for a specific place is enough to skip over all of this. Unfortunately, I don’t really have that option. So instead, I cheat. What Sarah’s holding is basically a phone number. Instead of trying to describe the location where I want to go, I just tell my Script to find that unique Script beacon and take me there. Poof, instant travel. It still isn’t quick by any means, but it’s much faster than any mundane method of travel, and unlike the first descriptive method, it’s possible.

“So, with this...” Sarah trails off.

“I can pop up at any time. It’ll take me thirty minutes, forty five at most,” I nod. “From literally anywhere on the planet... in theory. I haven’t actually tested that yet,” I finish with a shrug.

Sarah hugs me again, “I’m surprised that you didn’t have some magic method for us to talk to each other.”

I smirk at her, “Cell phones seem to be doing a pretty good job of that. Good enough that I felt no need to try and reinvent them.” Not to mention that I have no idea where I’d even start trying to recreate a cell phone network via prose.

“Fair enough,” Sarah laughs. “You know what we should do tonight?” I shake my head. “To celebrate before I’m drowned in college and you vanish into the wild?” Now I’m getting nervous. “We should go out.” Nervousness increasing to dread, “Clubbing!” Yup, there it is.

“Sarah,” I whine, “I didn’t pack anything remotely appropriate for clubbing. I don’t think I own anything remotely appropriate for clubbing.”

“Then we’ll have to get you something.” Determination, thy name is Sarah. Pretty sure that’s stubbornness’ name too, “Come on! We can shop until a few hours before the clubs open, come back here to get ready, then see the nightlife!” Sarah puts her hands over her head and does something that I assume is a dance move. I’ll admit it looks good, her hips swing back and forth. Not something I would want to try and imitate, if for no other reason than my lack of hips would make it look somewhat silly.

“Fine,” I sigh. There’s no way I’m winning this argument, so I figure I might as well capitulate so I won’t lose tired.

###

I’m so glad that I’d shelled out the cash for first class for my second flight. Clubbing the night before was almost a disaster. We found Sarah and me acceptable clothes easily enough, but finding an acceptable club was much more difficult. The very first club we went to, Sarah’s new amulet activated in warning of supernatural presence.

As it turns out, some things are cliche for a reason. There were vampires everywhere, bouncers, bartenders, patrons. They were like ants, you spot one and pretty soon you see them everywhere.

In a way it makes sense. Dark rooms, lots of prey, and the prey normally mentally impaired. Not to mention that most people are looking to get close to someone, and let's be honest, not too many guys will object to a hot girl sucking on their necks. It’s pretty much the perfect hunting ground.

Eventually we found a place with a minimum mosquito population. Dancing happened. I’m not sure if I’m grateful or depressed that every guy that tried to be suave, sliding up to us, hit on Sarah. On one hand, guys. Ew. On the other, not one? Really?

...

Anyway, we got back to Sarah’s dorm room. I hooked into the wi-fi to send an email to Asia. By the time I came up for air from all the shit that had happened right after meeting her, she’d already sent me three emails. A quick apology for not replying very quickly, and an equally quick explanation of why, and we were back on track. Once I convinced her that I was really okay after getting thrown out of my house by my dad, we struck up a pretty good pen friendship. She didn’t have a lot to contribute, she didn’t get out much, and was too young to have much to talk about. So I told her about the world she couldn’t get out into and she asked questions. We actually had a lot of fun. Her questions made me actually think about things that always just... were, before. That night’s email was more about warning her that if she ever found herself in LA to watch out for vampires.

The morning had come far too early, but I dragged myself to the airport and made my flight. I’m on my way to Hawaii, the Big Island. Hopefully to meet a very unique couple of people.

After the sacrifice there were some... consequences. My normal human clientele completely vanished, almost overnight. While I had managed to get out of the alley without really leaving any usable evidence for the cops, somebody had recognized my Script under the very deliberately placed corpse.

Suddenly I wasn’t one of them anymore. I wasn’t a knowledgeable normal, I was one of the ‘other’. I was one of the things that they used to call me to protect them from. That... that kinda hurt. A lot.

Strangely, though, or perhaps in the same theme, I did gain more new clients than I lost. Greater fae, not quite Sidhe but close. Greater nature spirits, hamadryads, mountain spirits, the larger nature spirits in general seemed to be more comfortable with me. Similarly, I got more work from mage associations. I have no idea why exactly. Some part of my confusion is certainly not being willing to think about how that one murderous act in that alley had changed me.

Still, over the last year, as I refined my trait theft Scripts, I quickly realized the biggest weakness of the technique is how long it takes to make them work. Anything that I want to take a trait from, I would have to beat, keep whatever it was alive, contain it, draw the Script, get the hopefully still subdued thing onto the Script, then kill it.

Yeaaaah... I don’t really see that working.

So I need something to make all that happen faster. The key I found is the alteration of the ritual to trigger when power is available. With more work, I crafted a Script that would... hang, for lack of a better term. Remain permanently on the edge of activation and trigger every time it’s given the energy to do so. This’ll come in two parts, the first being a Script tattoo for the part which integrates new traits. The second, of course, will be a more mobile, and hopefully flexible, extraction Script.

I haven’t figured out everything I want for the extraction just yet. That will take some trial and error, so I focused on the tattoo instead. I started by looking up what I could on magical tattoos and quickly discovered that magical tattoos are complicated. You can’t just slap one on generically, each tattoo has to be adjusted both for the person and the purpose.

Magic tattoos work by adding new, permanent energy flows to the body. Energy flows that are shaped in such a way as to produce the desired effects. The problem comes from the issue that if your tattoo doesn’t take into account the way your native energy flows already run... well, the term I found is ‘destructive resonance’. I’m really glad that there were no pictures involved.

In an act of uncharacteristic brilliance, upon finding how delicate this type of magic is, I decided to consult an expert. My new contacts with the mage associations came through for me and pointed me in the direction of one Pua Ke’Kua’Okolani, an Hawaiian Kahuna. I had to look it up, but apparently ‘Kahuna’ is a Hawaiian shaman/doctor/wiseman/sorcerer/psychologist. Something like that. Pua being female is unusual for the position, but after finding out more about her, I’m not overly surprised she got it anyway.

Pua is acknowledged by most who know about her, which is largely limited to human mages with no infernal connections, as the most knowledgeable and skilled magic user on the planet. To the point where she should be mentioned in the same breath as Merlin and Morgana le Fae.

The reason she isn’t, is because she simply doesn't have the raw power to move in such rarefied circles. She isn’t in the top ten, or the top hundred, or even the top five hundred. She isn’t a pushover in human terms, but in the wider supernatural world, she's a featherweight power-wise. Which is why she doesn’t really get involved with anything that the top ten, or anyone associated with them, are also involved in, as a rule.

What she does do is travel the world with her brother, one Ku’uaki Ke’Kua’Okolani. Ku, as he liked to be called, is a cultural anthropologist who specializes in martial traditions. What he does in the supernatural world is learn martial arts, empowered and otherwise, and reconstruct dead ones. He is to physical combat what Pua is to magic. Ku would travel to a place, learn the martial art there over the course of a year or two. While he does that, Pua absorbs all the magical traditions in the region. Then they go home, integrate what they learned into what they already knew, and then do it all again.

While I’d love to have the chance to pick up some pointers from Ku, Pua is why I’m making the trip. She knows more about magical tattoos than anybody else alive, and after some emailing back and forth has decided that something about what I’m doing is interesting enough that she’s willing to help me out.

After some careful vetting.

The only reason Pua’s even willing to talk to me is that I’m distinctly and loudly uninvolved with any major faction, and in fact have even less power than she does. These two things and my own reputation, and who my reputation is with, convinced her to invite me to come visit her village. Which is a good thing as it’s apparently impossible to find her if she doesn’t want to be found.

Hiding has very little to do with power, after all.

###

Finding the Ke’Kua’Okolani village is more awkward than I think it really has to be. There’s no address attached to the place, so all I have to go on are directions and descriptions. Honestly, I half-believed that the sign I was told to look for was some kind of joke. But nope, there it is.

I actually have to stop and stare for a moment through the window of my rented car to make sure what I’m seeing is real. Next to the entrance of a dirt road that quickly winds out of sight towards the coast, is a hand made wooden sign. The sign reads ‘Kapu!’ which my handy Hawaiian/English dictionary tells me means ‘forbidden’. Perched on top of the sign post is a bleached, white human skull.

How welcoming.

The dirt road winds from the interstate towards the coast. And why does Hawaii have an interstate? What other state does it go to? I shake the perfectly reasonable question from my head as I travel through groves of coconuts and bananas, and over a bridge that shows small fish-breeding pools set into the sides of a river that meanders through the village. 

The village itself is the size of a small town. The majority of the houses are the local ranch style. The village is centered around two places, the first a large, two-story sprawling house right on the beach. The second is a pile of stacked stones at the top of the village just past the most far-flung house. The edifice of stone looms over the rest of the village and gives off a feeling that’s more than slightly unnerving, though I have no idea why.

The road takes me into the middle of this little slice of idyllic paradise. An open dirt lot with far fewer cars than I would have expected for the population evident, makes parking easy. There are plenty of people, though. They move around performing various tasks, or surfing. Surfing is very popular. The majority of people I see under fifty or over fourteen are in board shorts or board shorts and bikini tops.

The views presented are quite nice. It seems like everybody there is a swimsuit model, or if too young, one in the making. They all have naturally golden brown skin, dark hair, and bodies that are in fantastic shape. It actually makes me somewhat self-conscious.

I climb out of my car and I’m immediately almost run-over by a stampeding pack of giggling children. They’re being chased by a girl who looks to be about fifteen, in the local uniform. 

The pack of kids skid to a halt in front of me, staring with wide eyes. They look at me, I look at them.

There’s a profoundly awkward silence.

The girl chasing them catches up, panting slightly, “What are you lot doing?”

One of the boys turns to look at her, and points at me, “Howle, Tima!”

The girl, Tima apparently, slaps him upside the head and shushes him, “Aloha, are you lost?” She pushes some of her hair behind an ear, looking shy.

“Ah, no... I was invited here. I’m supposed to meet with your ‘Kahuna’, if I’m pronouncing that right.”

The girl blinks, studies me suspiciously for a moment, then shrugs, “You want that house there.” She points at a two story house next to the sprawling, central one.

“Thanks.” The girl nods to me and herds her rampaging hoard towards the beach. I watch her go for a moment, then head towards the house indicated. It looks nice enough, has an open front porch, it’s walls have the look of raw wood, and there’s a tall, red plant at each corner.

Taking another moment or two to center myself, I knock on the door. “Un moment!” a voice calls from inside. The sound of striding footsteps approaches the door. When it opens I look up and up and up. “‘Ello? May I help you?”

I stand about five foot one, the woman in front of me has to be at least six foot. Long slender limbs, perfect figure, luxurious brown hair, dressed in a white peasant blouse and skin tight Capri pants, with a French accent that’s simply unfair.

“Uh...” I shake myself, “Yeah, I’m looking for Pua?” I’m distinctly uncomfortable.

“Oh!” The woman gives me a blinding smile, “Yes, I am Thea, Pua said you were coming. Please, come in.” She stands aside and waves me in. The inside is open and airy. Most of the walls are polarized windows, currently open and covered with mesh, giving the place the feeling of being outside. An impression helped along by the smell of flowers and the sound of birds.

I’m waved to a seat, which I take, and Thea strides off shouting something in French. Soon enough, she returns accompanied by another woman. This one is short, my height, Polynesian, and dressed in a sarong and bikini top. Her shoulders, arms, and a good portion of her torso are covered by tattoos. Black symbols and designs whorled and danced across her dark skin. The tattoos alone are enough to convince me of who this was.

I stand, forcing myself to smile naturally, and hold out a hand, “Ah, Kahuna... Pua... I’m sorry I’m not entirely sure how...”

I’m interrupted by Pua dashing forward and catching me up in a hug, “Oh, you have no idea how happy I was to get your email!” She doesn’t squee, I’m not entirely sure how the noise she makes isn’t one, but it’s not. I suspect dark powers. “Do you have any idea how few people who use magic are concerned with anything aside from more power? It’ll be great to talk to somebody else interested in the actual mechanics of what we do.” She pushes back her hands on my shoulders and looks me up and down, “And my height, too. That’s rare.” Well, she’s not wrong. People our height are rather uncommon. “Come on, show me what you’ve got so far and what we’re trying for.”

She is right about one thing though, it will be nice to talk to somebody who actually understands what I’m saying when I talk about my Scripts.

###

Working with Pua is a dream. She’s every bit as skilled as advertised, and I thoroughly enjoy the back and forth. I’ll also cheerfully admit that without Pua I would have done something awful to myself long before I figured out how to do anything on my own.

We start with two mapping projects. The first is to map my own energy flows. The way my body directs what meager power it has naturally. Pua is somewhat surprised that I have only just enough energy in me to keep myself alive. That’s what the majority of people have, all the mundanes, but typically mundanes don’t sit in her living room and discuss biological ley lines.

I just shrug, not really sure what to say.

The second is mapping how my Script would influence and produce energy flows inside a living thing. This results in a lot of exploding chickens. Apparently, when you ask a Hawaiian ‘what animal is okay to use for potentially lethal experimental magic’, the answer is chickens. It’s enthusiastically chickens. In fact they typically follow that up with, ‘can you use more chickens?’

Hawaiians really don’t like chickens.

Also, I know what ‘destructive resonance' looks like now. Really wish I didn’t. On the other hand, I’m really, really glad I got expert help. I don’t sleep very well for a few days after the first test. Or the second. Or... yeah.

Of course, Pua can’t spend all her time with me, she has duties to her village. When those duties involve magic, she sometimes invites me along to observe, and I get to see first hand how she gained her reputation.

She lays fragile and complex spells into seeds or saplings that are then planted where needed. As the plant grows so does the spell, gaining power as the plant or tree ages. Illusions, deceptions, and wards are woven into almost every bush, koa tree, and tea plant in the village, making it indistinguishable from the surroundings whenever she wishes.

A more physical barrier is laid around the village, conceptually tied to what Pua called Nalu. A word meaning unstoppable force, or inevitable, specifically in regards to the ocean. Her power matters little as the inevitable nature of the sea itself reinforces the ‘immovable object’ of the barrier. As long as there are tides that barrier would stand.

Even the village layout itself has its roots in Chinese geomancy, bringing all sorts of benefits to the people who live there, all powered by where the buildings and roads are, and the people themselves moving along those roads and paths.

The weather for the village is planned out months in advance. Pua can’t summon up a storm at will, but with a little effort she can make one seem to show up on its own a month down the road.

Watching her work, how she achieved with a delicate touch, and excessive skill and knowledge, what any of the greater supernaturals would have just brute forced, gives me so many ideas. Both for new things I can try with Script, and for new ways to do old things.

Some things I’m not allowed to know about, though. I still have no idea what she’s doing on top of the stacked-stone step-pyramid once a week. I ask, but I’m told that it’s a temple and only the Kahuna and the Ali’i, or Chief, can go up there.

Pua negotiates with spirits, and deals with local dragons that sound more like Mephistopheles than Ddraig. She acts as doctor and therapist to the villagers. Adviser to the Ali’i in supernatural matters, and is the spiritual center of the village, settling ghosts and calling on the spirits of ancestors.

More and more frequently she lets me help with various things around the village, when she lets me come along.

When I can’t come along, I try to advance our project without her. I can make some progress on my own while waiting for her to finish her duties as Kahuna. When I can’t do any more without Pua, I try to advance what I can do with Scripts on my own. When I can’t sit in one place anymore, I wander. This leads to me meeting her brother, Ku.

Pua is my height, and adorable. Ku is some inches over six foot and built... well like a Pacific islander. He’s all muscle and smiles and is more than happy to kick my ass whenever we both have the time. Even better than just being a very skilled sparring partner, he figures out pretty quickly that I’m struggling to integrate new capabilities into my fighting.

He sits me down and asks what I have that’s new, and what I plan on adding, and gives me a series of exercises to help me more rapidly acclimate to improved senses, reflexes, speed, and strength. Even just with my new senses, using his advice produces dramatic improvements.

Of course, not everything is sunshine and rainbows, and both of the siblings are far more perceptive than I would have wished they are. Pua notices within days that I’m always working, which really shouldn’t be too surprising. Sarah figured it out when she was, at most, fifteen. She probably had earlier and she just hadn’t worked up the courage to confront me about it sooner. Pua is a trained psychologist as part of her duties as Kahuna. She knows something is up the first time she tells me to take a day off while she works on other things, and I come back beaten all to hell.

For the first few months Pua is subtle. She’s trying to hint at something, that much I can tell. The way she emphasizes her reasons for not being available for our projects on certain days. Or her enthusiasm to have me join her in her more magical duties, which can’t be entirely explained by my willingness to look at whatever she wants to show me, and listen however long she wants to talk. However, I am stubborn and dense. Even worse, stubborn in my denseness. So eventually Pua sits me down in the living room with a cup of tea and just asks, “What’s wrong?”

“What...? I don’t...” Prior to this, aside from some suspicious looks, she’s shown no real indication that she’s really concerned with anything, so this comes as something of a surprise.

She sighs, “Ericka, one of my duties is to tend to the mental and spiritual health of the village. Granted, you’re not one of the villagers, but I’d like to think you are a friend.” Her attitude is very different from the cheerful academic that I’m used to dealing with. I’ve never talked to a priest before in either of my lives, but I imagine it must feel something like this. The calm aura of comfort is... relaxing, “There is clearly something wrong, you push yourself harder than anybody I’ve ever seen, you watch the calendar like you're on a deadline. Fear drives you, though it’s not a fear of something concrete. I have a feeling that if it was you’d have done something about it already.” She leans forward and lays a tattooed hand on mine, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

I stare at her, I’m not really sure what to say. It had taken years to tell Sarah, or my parents anything, and even then I didn’t tell them everything, “I’m not...”

“Does it have something to do with your reincarnation?” If I’d been taking a drink I’d have done a spit take.

“How the hell do you know that?” I don’t mean to sound that aggressive, but really what do you say to that?

Fortunately Pua just smiles, “You’re hardly the first person to be reborn. I would guess that something from your past life has followed you, and now you’re trying to prepare for something that you’ve already failed at once.” She squeezes my hand sympathetically, and just like that I’m back on an even keel. If she had actually known everything already, I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself. But I still have some control, which serves to center me somewhat. “With the vague memories that usually accompany one through lives, it can be even more difficult. Can you tell me who you were...?”

She trails off as I start shaking my head, “Who I was doesn't matter. I wasn’t anybody special, and even if I was, nobody from my past life matters here.” Pua looks confused but doesn’t say anything, just waves me on. I hesitate, am I really going to do this?

I think I am. Unlike anybody else who I might have told, Pua both has a responsibility to others who might be affected, and more importantly the capability to do something about it. That, and given what else she dealt with, she might not dismiss me as insane as quickly as most would. She both needs, and is likely to believe, a more complete explanation “I... Are you familiar with the Many Worlds theory?”

The Kahuna blinks, but nods, “That every way something could have gone creates a parallel universe where it did. Are you saying that...”

“How about the World of Fantasy corollary?” I cut her off, I’d get to answers in a moment.

“That one I haven’t heard of before.” Pua answers, after a moment of thought.

I sigh, this is where it would get either really interesting or really awkward, “The theory states that with infinite variations, such as presented in Many Worlds, everything would be true somewhere.” I pause for a moment trying to think of how to explain the next part, “I want you to think of a TV show. One of those with lots of power creep. Where every season everything is just bigger and more over the top than the last.”

“So basically, every shonen anime ever,” Pua offers easily. Something about the look in her eye tells me I’ve found a perhaps not so closeted fan.

“Yeah. Exactly,” I have to chuckle. She’s not wrong, after all, “Now imagine that one day you wake up in that show. And you’re not a lead, you're not even a side character or an extra, you’re just there. Unpowered, waiting for the disaster that you know is coming. What do you do?”

Pua’s silent for a long moment, “I live in an anime. That’s either the most awesome thing I’ve ever heard, or the most terrifying.” I just snort, I know which way I lean. “So you’ve seen what’s going to happen?”

“Not to you,” I admit, “you weren’t in the show. But I know who the next Red Dragon Emperor is going to be. I know some about what’s going to happen with the Biblical factions. I know a few other events that have happened or are about to.”

“Like what?” Pua leans forward, gaze intent.

I squirm slightly, “What are you going to do with the information? I’m sort of relying on my fore-knowledge, if you start messing with things...”

Pua sits back and nods thoughtfully, “If we act on anything you tell us then you lose one of your only advantages.” After a moment or two of intense thought she sits forward again, “I obviously can’t assure you that we won’t act on what you tell us... But let me talk to the Ali’i and maybe we can work something out.”

Pua stands and I stand with her. I figure she’s going to go talk to people so we can settle things as quickly as possible. Instead she moves forward and hugs me. Getting hugged by somebody my own height is a novelty. Pua is also very pretty, something that I immediately feel guilty about noticing since she’s married to Thea.

Sure, same sex marriages are neither traditional nor legal in Hawaii, but Pua is the one who would be performing the ceremony and her Ali’i doesn’t care. So as far as her village is concerned, they are married.

“You are no longer alone,” she whispers to me. Nothing is special about the words themselves, but the concept she puts forward with such absolute certainty makes me tense up in shock. “You have carried the burden of your knowledge and figuring everything out, alone. This is no longer true. If the meeting with the Ali’i goes how I expect, and you agree to share your secrets, the Ke’Kua’Okolani will owe you a debt. And even if it does not, you are my and my brother’s friend.” She pulls back from me and presses a palm to my chest and smiles, “We will help you as much as we can, regardless.”

I’m more than a little stunned. I stare at the woman in front of me. Just the idea that somebody knows what I’ve been through has tears leaking from my eyes. I don’t know what to say, the idea is so foreign that presenting it has almost put me into shock.

Sarah always has my back, but she doesn’t really have any interest in getting more involved with the supernatural. If she hadn’t known me, she would have cheerfully let all the magic and monsters deal with themselves, not getting involved at all. I always feel a little guilty about what she’s done for me in light of that, and so try to keep her out of everything I can. Cait provides some information and space, but otherwise leaves me on my own. That I have somebody in my corner that not only can, but would, help with the supernatural everything is a revolutionary concept.

I try to say something, but words aren’t coming no matter how hard I search for them.

Pua, though, just smiles and squeezes my shoulders before heading out the door. I stand where she left me while my brain reboots. Once I can get myself to move again I head out and, for the first time that I can remember, sit on the beach and do nothing.

I watch the waves roll in, watch kids learn to surf, and watch teenagers showing off. I don’t even watch the girls specifically, I just... watch the world go by. Still, for perhaps the first time since I had been reborn.

Pua gets back to me as the sun is beginning to set. She smooths out her sarong and sits next to me in the sand and for a few minutes we watch the sunset together. When the disc of the sun vanishes behind the horizon, I glance over at her. I kind of expect her to ask why I’m just sitting around. Not because she objects to my laxity, but it’s so foreign to my nature that even knowing what’s happening, I’m almost wondering what’s wrong with me.

She doesn’t though. She just smiles at me and takes it as a signal to start speaking, “So after talking to the Ali’i and the rest of the nā mākua, elders, we have decided that if you’re willing to tell us what you know, we will warn you before we act in such a way as to change things. If we interfere with a plan of yours, the Ke’Kua’Okolani will work to make up for what was lost. Depending on what you tell us, we may owe you a debt. The nature of that debt will depend on what is revealed. What we may do to repay that debt will depend on what the village must do to protect ourselves. Is this agreeable?”

I’m silent for a long few minutes. This is so different from the way I’m used to acting. To operating. On the other hand, I can use the help, Pua knows a great deal, and Ku is a fantastic teacher and sparring partner. What’s more, they are both willing to help me develop what I’ve already accomplished. I don’t know anybody else who could or would help in the same way.

One of my goals had been to gather allies.

“I... Give me some time to organize things in my head. There's...”

Pua smiles sympathetically, “It’s very different from what you’re used to or what you expected. Of course, take all the time you need.”

“It won’t be long. I’ll tell you tomorrow. I just... need to think.” I don’t really feel right making them wait on my dithering.

So that night, instead of sleeping, I spend the night in my bed staring at the ceiling and trying to recall everything I can about the future. Or theoretical future.

###

The next morning I sit down with Pua and Ku and tell them everything I can remember about High School DxD. Who has the Boosted Gear, and that Lucifer’s little sister would get him for her peerage. About the stolen Excaliburs and Kokabiel’s plan to restart the war in heaven. About the Khaos brigade and the hero faction. That Ophis had founded it to kick the Great Red out of the dimensional gap, and to that end was recruiting every strong person she could lay her hands on and empowering some of them with her own magic. That Cao Cao had both plans of his own and the True Longinus. About the plan to kidnap the only child of the Yokai faction’s leader. Even a few things that I only vaguely remember mentioned, like the original Lucifer’s kid throwing in with the Brigade, and an eventual war with Hades. Though who the sides were aside from the Boosted gear on one side and Hades on the other, I can’t recall.

Then I point out that most of what I told them about, I’m pretty sure, is season one stuff. So just imagine how much more insane and ugly all of this is going to get as time moves forward.

Pua turns pale at several points along my explanation, Ku just frowns deeper the longer I talk. When I finish they look at each other and engage in some bizarre form of sibling telepathy.

“So what will you do?” I ask after the silence stretches further than I can stand. I think I do pretty well to only fidget for as long as I have.

“Well... I can’t give you specifics, but we’re probably going to hide,” Pua says after another moment of thought. “We’ll keep track of what’s going on, but in general we’ll layer as many defenses as we can over the village and try to disappear. Wars with the kind of people you’re talking about are... well they’re nothing that we want to be exposed to.” She smiles at me slightly, “That’s not an option for you though, is it? No, like I said, for this the Ke’Kua’Okolani owe you a debt.”

Ku nods at his sister’s words. “Pua and me, especially. We’re the kind of people, much like you will be,” he smirks at me, “that a lot of folks will try to recruit whether we want to be or not. Lots of the villagers would be appealing in various ways, actually.”

“This warning will save a great number of our people,” Pua finishes, “thank you.” I blush slightly, and muttered a ‘your welcome’. Pua takes pity on me and changes the subject, “Now we have a lot of work to do, we’d best get started.”

I can’t really blame them for not wanting anything to do with what’s coming. Hell, I don’t either. Still, I really hope that they manage to hide effectively. If for no other reason than having a secure location to fall back to, where none of the no-doubt many enemies I’ll make can find me, sounds pretty nice. Pua and Ku as resources I can tap sounds even better.

After the explanation not much appreciably changes. Pua still works with me designing my tattoos, though she’s absent more often as she starts to set up whatever defenses would make this hunk of the big island of Hawaii effectively disappear. Which, interestingly, leaves me in the position of doing a lot of the minor magical work that she’d normally handle for the villagers. It’s slightly awkward, but good Script practice, and the people are friendly enough that I don’t mind helping them. 

At the same time, Ku starts having more time to help me out with my fighting. It’s Ku that takes what I learned in dojos, studios, and the ring and starts turning it into something that will have me winning with blood, not points.

It’s also Ku that introduces me to a smith on the island who can help me with the second part of my plan for combat-speed trait theft. The man in question is nominally a farrier. He has a portable forge that he works with out of the back of his truck. He turns six old, iron railroad spikes into knives for me. Working with Pua, when we can’t stand to look at tattoos anymore, I develop six different versions of the extraction Script to acid etch onto the knives. We even manage to get something like intent targeting for the extraction Scripts.

So theoretically, once the tattoo is put on me, I would be able to stab something with the knife, the death would activate the Script, which would rip free whatever trait I’m focused on. The knife would then feed the extracted trait into the tattoo which would integrate it into my soul. The alterations of my soul would then be reflected on to my soul enhanced body.

Instant trait get.

Unfortunately, the script on the knives will take some testing to see which one works the best, especially with the intent targeting. Pua is sure it will work, we just aren’t sure how... cleanly it will work, and the only way to know will be to try it and see.

In the end, it takes almost a year and a half of work between Pua and myself to get to the point where Pua declares the tattoo ready to be put on me. It's broken only by working with Ku, and the occasional visit to Sarah, Cait and my mom. I also send a lot of pictures to Asia. I think I’ve convinced her that Hawaii is actually a slice of heaven that got dropped on earth.

The tattooing itself is painful as hell. And we have to shave my head. The tattoo started on the palm of each hand with the Script to connect the tattoo to a matching piece of Script on the knife. The script then forms a line that wraps around both sides of each forearm, reconnecting at my elbows. The Script line then runs up the outside of my arms to my shoulder where it splits again. Along my front, the Script lines run along my collar bones to a Script circle around the hollow of my throat, then continue down my centerline to connect to circles around my heart, solar plexus, and just below my belly button. Along my back, the Script lines connect at the back of my neck, then run up and down my spine. Downward, the Script line eventually ends at a circle around my tailbone. Upward, the line runs to circles at the crown of my skull then continues forward to the last circle around my third eye. Every chakra was covered giving the Script even access to each spiritual center, to allow for smooth and even integration.

With long experience in mystical tattooing, Pua somehow manages to make the work look beautiful. The whole experience still sucked though. Single needle strike tattooing is horrible and takes forever. Actually putting the tattoo on me takes six hours a day, every day, for a month. When it’s done and healed though it’s all worth it.

I’m finally there. Everything I’ve worked for since literally the day I was born is finally here and starting to work.

That short list of useful targets that I can actually expect to get is finally going to see some use.

Right at the top?

Trolls.


	8. Book 1 - An Unexpected Host

Age Twenty

Trolls are miracles of nature, as I learned going through Cait’s books. They regenerate incredibly fast, regrowing a limb in as little as a month. Which is twice as fast as a lizard can regrow a tail, and a troll arm is a lot bigger than a lizard tail. They can eat almost anything organic and extract useful nutrients from it. To top it all off, their large size, dense bones, and incredibly efficient muscle tissue makes them stupidly strong. A male troll averages ten feet tall, a female is closer to twelve, though these numbers don’t include their hunched posture. A fully grown troll can break a bull’s neck, sling the corpse over one shoulder, and run off with it. At full speed, with no visible effort. Adult female trolls have been recorded ripping trees out of the ground to bludgeon each other with.

The thing that makes them so amazing is that all of this is purely biological. Sure, their regeneration has nothing on, say, a Phenex, nor does their strength measure up to any acceptably powerful rook. But they do all of it with no magic involved. Honestly, why trolls are hidden with the rest of the supernatural, I have no idea. They are, though, which will make poaching them much easier.

So my thinking is that if I’m eventually going to get supernatural boosts to my physical abilities, then it makes sense to get the highest starting base that I can. After all, if the rook enhancement multiplies the recipient's strength by ten, then ten times a troll’s strength will leave me much better off out of the gate than my five foot one female self.

The plan was simple. I know where Troll country is in the British isles, I’d get Cait to drop me off there with a backpack, camping supplies, and everything I’d need to make Script traps. Then using my bloodhound given sense of smell, and some help from the local spirits, I’d track down some trolls, restrain or nearly kill them with Script, finish them off with one of my test knives and call it good. I wanted eight trolls total. Four for strength and four for regeneration, since Pua thinks that taking the same trait multiple times might reinforce the new part of me, if not have an outright additive effect on performance in some circumstances.

I am also, on occasion, a moron.

The plan starts to fall apart almost immediately. Cait refused to go anywhere near the British Isles for reasons she refused to explain. The best she’d do is drop me off in France, which is still better than just flying the whole way.

The second problem didn't appear until I was already in the middle of nowhere, in a British forest. While I have the sensitivity to scents of a bloodhound, my brain, thus the part processing the scents, is still entirely human. I can get all sorts of information from the scent of things. Health, age, emotional state, and a hundred other things. What I can’t do is track like a bloodhound. With time, I’m learning to identify all those scents and what they mean, but the subtle gradient of scent age that indicates direction and how far behind a target I am, are utterly beyond me.

Also, I have no idea what a troll smells like.

And the last part where the plan died is the idea of eight trolls. Somehow, in all my research, I hadn’t put together that as large, territorial, omnivores with predatory leanings, they would have huge territories. Thus be pretty rare and miles apart at any given point in time, at best.

Which leaves me where I am now, camped out in the forest with no real clue where I’m going. I would have been utterly screwed except once again my friends, the little spirits, came through for me. As it turns out, dryads and hamadryads have a vested interest in knowing where trolls are at all times. Just in case one comes along and tries to rip up the wrong tree.

They’re more than happy to point me in the direction of as many trolls as they can find for me. Which is two. Not nearly as many as I want, but enough to get everything I want out of them.

Which means, for the moment, the most useful thing I can do is sit in my camp wishing I knew more about staying in the wild, and waiting for some nature spirit to get back to me. The early morning light is somewhat spectacular to see, but I’m cold enough that I wish I’d thought about what England is like in early autumn. So instead of drawing the fantastic scenery, I huddle next to my anemic fire and clutch my lukewarm chocolate.

Waiting is not something I’m really suited to, so I’m practically vibrating in place, or shivering, when the sound of buzzing wings fills the air. They look superficially like butterflies or dragonflies, brightly colored gossamer wings carrying the giggling creatures in a swarm around me.

Slightly awed, I hold out a hand and one of the colorful four inch tall fae lands and holds on to my thumb for balance. Soft looking lavender skin under a simple looking dress and dark blue hair make the pixie look absolutely adorable. Even for a tiny flying piranha, I think as the little fae smiles hugely up at me revealing shark like teeth.

“Big thing looking for smelly huge?” she asks, tilting her head cutely. Her voice sounds like a tinkling bell.

“Smelly huge! Smelly huge!” the rest of swarm cheers.

“Uh...” They’re kind of stunning. The sound of their voices combined together with the visual cacophony of their wings to make something almost hypnotic. Shaking myself, I refocus. If I’m a ‘big thing’ then I guess the trolls would be ‘huge’, “I don’t know how they smell, but huge would be an accurate description.”

They cheer again and several of them grab onto my clothes and try to pull me along somewhere. Laughing, I gently pull myself free and head back to my tent, stretching as I go, my limbs stiff from the cold. “Hold on, let me get my stuff. I wouldn’t want to run into the ‘smelly huge’ unarmed.”

Ignoring the perching pixies, I collect one of the knives that Pua, the smith, and I prepared, and the Script supplies. I figure that I can figure out where the troll goes frequently and set up an ambush. Failing that, set out some bait with the same plan.

The pixies lead me into the forest in a swirling storm of colorful wings and giggles. The route they lead me on has no path attached to it and I hope they’ll be willing to show me back to my campsite. Because between my own lack of knowledge and the way the pretty colors of the flitting pixies keeps drawing all my attention, I have no idea where we are.

###

The music is something of a surprise.

I have no idea how long I’ve been walking, but the forest has changed as we go. The air has warmed, and bright sunlight streams through the emerald green leaves of the trees. Bird songs fill the air, providing the perfect accompaniment to the mesmerizing harp music that draws me forward. Vaguely, I wonder when the pixies had left, but it doesn’t seem important.

I break out of the trees into a sunny clearing, and for a moment I’m blinded by the sudden light. I flinch backwards, holding up a hand to shield my watering eyes. Hissing, I wait for my eyes to adjust, blinking furiously.

The clearing is covered in long grass and wildflowers that fill the air with their scent. A stream meanders its way through the break in the trees, adding the pleasant sound of running water to the ambiance. In the center of the clearing is a blanket made of rich, beautiful cloth that looks as soft as clouds. A feast is laid out across it, sandwiches, meats, fruits, and pies for dessert that smell so good my mouth begins to water. Sitting on the blanket playing a lap harp is the source of the heavenly music, the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

Long, blond hair frames a finely sculpted face with the most intensely blue eyes I’ve ever seen. His clothes are finely made, stitched with patterns of vines and leaves in greens and blues that almost make him seem like part of the forest around him.

Then he smiles at me and it’s like the clouds moved away from the sun. He stops playing, which makes me sad, then he speaks and his voice is more than musical enough to make up the difference.

“Hello, stranger, I find I have too much food and will need some help to eat it. Would you care to join me?” He waves a hand at the blanket and food.

I find myself hurrying over to him and nodding like a bobble head. I stop, blushing the moment I register what I’m doing. I don’t slow down my fast walk to join him on the blanket, though. My cheeks are burning but I can’t seem to stop grinning like an idiot anyway.

“Might I know the name of my lovely guest?”

“I’m... um... I’m Ericka, Ericka Rhostana,” I babble out as fast as I can. Oh god, this is so embarrassing, but nobody has ever called me lovely before. I’m blushing even harder, to call me that when she... he, he’s so pretty...

He leans forward and thumbs my chin, derailing any thoughts I might have, “And what brings you all the way out here, Ericka?”

Oh god, just the way he says my name makes me shiver. “I’m hunting trolls,” I chirp. Ugh, that’s so embarrassing.

I glance up at him through my eyelashes, fortunately he doesn’t seem to hold my embarrassing noises against me. “Really?” he seems surprised, instead. Well, that’s fair, who in their right mind goes hunting trolls?

I wonder what that says about me...

He slides next to me, and suddenly I can’t think about anything other than how close sh... he is, “Only trolls? Not fae?”

I shake my head and smile, happy that I haven’t embarrassed myself, “No. Nothing to do with the fae.”

She pulls me into leaning against her side... his side, and holds a slice of some sweet tasting fruit to my lips. I bite into it letting the juice run down my throat, god that’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted, another bite and the fruit is gone and I take another moment to suck the remaining juices off her fingers.

“Come now. Who does the Caitsidhe want you to find? You can tell me.” She leans in, and I can feel her hot breath caressing my lips. My breathing speeds up, my heart pounding. I’ve never kissed anyone before! The one crashing of lips at HEMA doesn’t count! And with the dryads that Cait introduced me to, I was more along for the ride than anything else. What if I’m bad at it? Oh god, I should have gone to more of Sarah’s sleepovers, girls practice that sort of thing at sleepovers, right?

Wait, there was a question... Caitsidhe? Cait nearly tore my head off the one time I called her that. “No...” I moan, “Cait doesn’t want anything here. Doesn’t even want to come here.”

I lean forward trying to catch her lips. She leans back from me though, teasing, just out of reach, “Now, now, I can’t give you kisses until you tell me the truth.” But I want kisses!

I try to catch her lips with mine, placing a hand on her chest and chasing after her lips. Hard planes of muscle under my fingers feel... not at all like a breast. My eyes snap open, I don’t even remember closing them, and lips crashed into mine.

The lips are firm and insistent, sparking pleasure up and down my spine. The kiss tastes even better than the fruit.

Everything about it feels wrong.

I jerk back, a fog clearing from my mind just enough for blazing fury to ignite and burn away the rest. Blood pounds in my ears, and my fist is moving before I realize what’s happening. A primal scream of rage fills the air in a voice that sounds a lot like mine.

The punch crashes into the strange man’s cheek perfectly.

A crunching sound registers, and a moment later pain consumes everything from my wrist down. Right in front of me, my fist is still pressed against the strangers face, bruising already spreading across my hand, the back slightly deformed where metacarpals had visibly broken. They haven’t broken the skin, fortunately, but they’d still need to be set.

The man hasn’t even shifted his head. He sighs, looking a little miffed. “I’ve never had somebody break from an elf striking in progress from a kiss before,” he comments, sounding put out. Faster than I can follow, he grabs me by the throat, lifts me from the ground, and slams me into a tree. My breath explodes from my body and my gasping for breath is halted by the hand around my neck, “How did you do that?” My feet are dangling off the ground and my hands scrabble at his arm.

Fortunately, he seems to actually want an answer as he relaxes his grip slightly, not enough for me to escape, but enough that my desperate gasping gains me some much needed oxygen.

“Don’t... Like... Boys...” I gasp out.

He seems honestly confused, “Then what good are you? Don’t worry, I’m sure I can fix your thinking.”

What. The. Fuck.

I honestly hadn’t thought that I could get any angrier, and yet here we are.

I see red.

He’s standing too close to put into a standing armbar. So I try to knee him in the ribs instead.

It works better than the punch, but only in that I don’t break my knee. He just sighs and slams me into the tree again. This time the back of my head connects with the tree.

My vision swims.

“Foolish little mud child.” The condescension is thick enough to cut with a fork, “As if one so sad as you could harm a Sidhe of the Tuatha De Denan. Now you will tell me why the cat queen sent you. The feel of her power hangs about you like a cloak, so do not bother to lie. I will be able to tell, and you will answer my questions one way or another.”

I really want to hit him again, but it hasn't really accomplished anything so far. I probably would have kept trying anyway, but something that he’d just said sparked in my brain.

Sidhe are fae.

Fae really don’t like iron.

With a snarl, I arch my back to let my good left hand snake between me and the tree to grab the knife. At the same time, I try to spear his eyes with the fingers of my broken hand. Like I’d learned years ago, a poke in the eye is a poke in the eye. It also distracts him from what my other hand is doing. Yanking the knife from my belt, I pull my arm free as he jerks his head back and away from my clumsy fingers, and plunge the former iron railroad spike into the side of his neck.

Blood fountains across my hand, as a look of shock passes briefly across his face. I know the moment he dies, though. I see the slight shimmer of the subtler Script activation run from the knife and down the tattoos, just as designed. I can feel whatever the knife has taken sink into my soul.

I briefly wonder why it activated at all. I hadn’t been focusing on anything.

Around me the world changes. It’s early autumn again though later in the day, clouds cover the sky and the sun making the light weak. I start shivering violently, my body only now realizing how cold I am. What had been an idyllic clearing is now part of a bog, my legs are covered in mud from where I had knelt in it. There’s no sign of a blanket or the feast, or even the lap harp.

I glance down at my victim as my knife slides out of my hand and he hits the ground with a thud, the look of shock still on his face... Oh god, I’d kissed him.

My gorge rises and I find myself doubled over and vomiting into the mud. I blink as brown sludge that tastes of acid and dirt falls from my mouth...

Oh god, how did that sludge get in my mouth... In my stomach? The only thing I’ve eaten is the fruit... what had that fruit he’d fed me actually been?

I fall to my knees heaving, trying not to see the mud and dead leaves I cough up.

I fail.

I heave until nothing more comes up, and then heave a few more times just for the hell of it.

My misery is interrupted by the sound of buzzing wings. I feel a little ashamed of myself that I can't remember where I’ve heard the sound before. Then I actually see the pixie swarm flitting through the mostly dead trees. I recognize the hypnotic patterns for what they are this time, and quickly look away.

“Strange big killed pretty big!” one of them shrills. I’m not an expert on pixie speak, but that doesn’t sound good, “Strange big, stinky big!” Very not good, “Get stinky big!”

Well, crap.

Painfully pushing myself to my feet, I get ready to run, only to find it’s too late. Earlier I had compared the pixies to tiny flying piranha. I had no idea how accurate that was until just now. They spin around me, a vortex of colorful wings and sharp claws and teeth.

“Stinky Big!” they heckle and shout, darting in and out, scratching and biting, then darting away before I can do more than swat at them. I flail, the skill that I worked so hard for my entire life abandons me in my panic, and from the cold and concussion. Desperately, I hunch my head and try to protect my eyes. I’ve lost them once already and doing so again doesn’t sound like much fun.

I stumble backwards, almost tripping when my heel hits something heavy that certainly doesn’t feel like wood. Cracking my eyes and glancing down I see my railroad spike knife still buried in the unnamed Sidhe’s neck. It had worked on one fae, why not more? I quickly drop, actually avoiding a few of the little monsters with the unexpected movement. As soon as I get my hand around the hilt, I spring to my feet and start lashing out around me again, this time far more effectively.

Using the flat of the blade like a fly swatter actually works fairly well. The iron weapon does enough damage on impact to take individuals out of the fight. The pixies also left contact with the blade fast enough, that if I actually kill any of them, the Script doesn’t trigger. Which I count as a good thing. I have no idea what I’d absorbed from the Sidhe.

Still, the little beasts are tearing me apart, when the entire forest seems to groan. The trees twist in a way that has nothing to do with the wind. Several branches seem to reach out and swat a pixie that got too close from the air. The wind shifts and grows cold, and a moment later a cacophony of sound fills the air as a flock of crows come over the tops of the trees and descend on the pixie swarm.

The swarm shrieks in fear and flees, leaving me barely standing, exhausted, shivering violently, bleeding from thousands of tiny cuts and bite marks all over my body, and covered in mud. I can barely hold onto the knife in my hand.

I look up and see a beautiful woman in a dress made of autumn leaves. I smile slightly at the hamadryad that had agreed to help me find the trolls. She walks casually across the bog, none of the mud sticking to her.

She quickly reaches my side and rests a warm hand on my shoulder, “I had thought the plan was for you to wait for me at your camp?” Her voice sounds pleasantly of rustling leaves, babbling brooks, and bird song. She also sounds something between amused and concerned.

“Yeah,” I croak, “Damn pixies caught me with glamor or something.” My vision is swimming and darkness is creeping in at the edges.

“Can you walk, young witch?” My reply is to begin falling over, forcing her to catch me and lower me to the ground. Somehow my addled brain produces the thought that, in other circumstances, this might have been rather romantic, her cradling my head in the crook of her arm while my upper body leans against her. “I’ll take that as ‘no’. I will carry you to your camp, then.”

“Thank you,” I wheeze, “I’ll owe you one.”

“Then I shall perform the task well, and remember the debt,” is the last thing I hear before the darkness takes me.


	9. Book 1 - Strength

I awake feeling terrible, not knowing why, or for a moment even, how exactly. Slowly the day before filters into my brain and the world begins to make sense again. My stomach is cramping from whatever I’d eaten while under the effect of the Sidhe’s illusion, and the pixies had done their damnedest to kill me by a thousand cuts.

In short, I feel awful.

I’m in my tent. Somebody has removed my muddy clothing and tucked me in. Outside my tent there’s the sound of humming, which nearly sends me into a panic thinking the Sidhe has found me again.

After a moment, though, the way the humming lacks structure, blends with the sounds of the woods, and doesn’t force my attention or awe, makes me relax. I still wonder who it could be though. So I slowly crawl my way out of the sleeping bag, wincing at the way the small wounds pull as I move. Already a lot of the little cuts and bites are beginning to itch in a way that makes me very nervous. I dress as quickly as I can, adding extra layers for warmth, then head out of the tent.

Outside the tent, the autumn morning light is bright and the sky is clear. My camp fire is going strong, casting much needed warmth into the area around it. Sitting next to the fire, tending it, is the hamadryad, humming softly to herself, accompanying the natural sounds of the woods.

The hamadryad is tending the fire, her soft humming accompanying the natural sounds of the woods.

“Good morning,” she says, stopping her ‘song’, if it could be called that. She turns to look at me, smiling the way most nature spirits do that don’t deal with humans a lot. Like they know what the gesture is and what it means, but it isn’t a part of them like it is a human. Like they have to remind themselves they aren’t baring their teeth, “I stayed the night to make sure nothing else tried to take advantage of you. I would have made breakfast, but human food makes little sense to me.”

I shake my head and smile weakly back at her as I set about preparing the instant oatmeal I brought, “That’s fine. I honestly didn’t expect any of this. Especially not the fire, which is very nice.”

She gives me a much more natural close lipped smile, “While a tree may fear fire, the forest knows it has its uses.” I nod in understanding. Forest fires burn trees, but renew forests. A matter of scale, I guess.

“Do you know what you want for the debt?” I ask. A hamadryad isn’t a fae, so I’m not too worried about owing her. Nature spirits are pretty alien, the things they want rarely make sense to humans, and even when they do they usually don’t matter. I’d once spent a week figuring out how to shift the course of a river by two feet for a naiad.

I still have no idea why.

The exceptions, of course, are when they want something like a dam destroyed, or all the loggers in a lumber camp turned into beavers. I hadn’t taken either of those jobs. The first, because just... no. Jobs like that are how you end up on terrorist watch lists. The second, because I have no idea where I’d even start trying to do something like that.

I have added transformations to my list of things to figure out, though.

The hamadryad shakes her head, “No. I will hold this until I have some task worthy of you.”

I nod, that’s fairly common. Using a favor owed from somebody like me to heal a random tree would be a waste, “Alright, let the debt for transportation to my camp while I was helpless, and watching over me while I recovered, while at no risk to yourself, lay quiet until called.”

She nods, agreeing with how I define the debt, thus defining what I could be called on for.

“Do you still intend to hunt trolls in your current state? I have the information you wanted, if you wish to proceed.”

I hesitate, thinking. My original plan was to get strength first, figuring that it would make taking down a second troll easier. Now though, I need that regeneration if I expect to recover any time soon. Or at all. I’ve only had a night’s rest but many of the wounds I can see on my hands and arms are already turning red. Infections can be lethal out here.

I suppose that I can craft a transport Script and head back to Cait or Pua. Either of them would be able to patch me up. That would take time, though, weeks if not months of no progress, when I’m so close to the finish line.

I’ll still go back if I can’t bag the troll I’m after on my first try. I’m still largely functional, and if I succeed, I’ll be fine in minutes at best, hours at most.

And I’m very much ready to stand on my own.

Still, I think I’ll craft the transit Script now while I’m at my best, so if something goes wrong, all I’ll have to do is activate it. Some part of me is reminded of pre-dialing 911 and then proceeding to blow myself up repeatedly in the kitchen when I was younger. I ignore that part, as it’s clearly insane.

So I look up at my breakfast companion and nod, “Let me finish eating, and then get a few things ready, and we’ll go.” The forest spirit across from me only nods.

###

The hamadryad really came through for me and found two trolls, a male and a female. I decide to take the male first, since it’ll be the smaller of the two. Some part of me thinks that trying to differentiate between the ten foot tall mass of muscle and the twelve foot tall mass of muscle, when I’m five one and likely suffering from blood loss, poisoning and seemingly infections, is somewhat ridiculous. Still, it’s a place to start.

The hamadryad delivers me to an open space on a game trail that the troll frequents, and I set about preparing my ambush. First things I put in place are a series of trap Scripts, all centered around a central point on the game trail. When activated they’ll... chain, for lack of a better word, the troll in place. No physical chains will be involved, but each Script will exert a powerful attractive force on anything caught in their line of effect. Theoretically, between the dozen or so I’m attaching to trees, the troll will be caught in enough conflicting pulls to be rendered immobile. All of these are connected to what I call Script fuses. Long strips of twisted paper with nothing but connecting Script on them, that will lead back to the beginning of the Script story and the energy gathering Script, from where I’ll be waiting. Theoretically allowing me to set the Scripts off from cover without having to confront the troll directly. The Script fuses are incredibly obvious, so I’m counting on troll’s legendary stupidity to let me get away with this.

Now, Scripts activate quickly, but not really at battle speed unless they’re fueled by a sacrifice. The energy gathering Script takes just a couple of extra seconds. In a fight, though, a couple of extra seconds are seconds too long. So I need some way of getting the troll to stand and wait where I want it to until everything goes off. For that, I turn to something I’ve only just started experimenting with, illusion Scripts.

Illusion Scripts are, honestly, extremely limited. Anything with any complexity at all takes days to write out, and even then they’re very static. Whatever I produce can’t be changed after writing it down, so the illusions very much followed a... script.

Ow.

Visual illusions are right out. Getting enough detail to make what I produce look like anything other than a cartoon is something I haven’t managed yet. Auditory illusions are easier, especially if I can imitate something, but again, can’t change or adapt or respond to changing circumstances. All of this would become much simpler if I could find or derive the Script symbols for specific objects, rendering the equivalent of pages of description down to a single symbol.

Those name symbols are very hard to come by, though, and even if I had all of them it wouldn’t make the illusion any more flexible.

Scent based illusions, though, are something I’ve had a remarkable amount of success with. I never would have thought of them before I upgraded my own sense of smell, but they are surprisingly easy, and what I’ll be using as bait.

Right where all my trap Scripts are pointing, I lay down the Script for an illusion of the smell of fresh meat. Trolls are absolutely willing to kill something for food, but if the opportunity presents itself, they are lazy enough to be perfectly happy for something else to do the work of getting their food for them. The smell of a free meal will draw the troll in. Hopefully, it will proceed to where the scent is strongest, right over the illusion Script, and then stand there trying to figure out where the free lunch is. Ideally, the troll will stand there at least long enough for the trap Scripts to activate.

Once trapped, I can take my time and pick one of a troll’s few weaknesses to stick my knife in.

That was the original plan anyway. In my current diminished state, though, I think I might need some extra help. Destructive Scripts aren’t something I use much. They take forever to set up and I have to be nearly on top of them to activate them, usually leaving me in the area of effect. My one experiment with the lightning-calling Script had been more than enough to encourage me to look for more subtle applications. They tend to both work better and be safer.

Now, though, I’ll need something to soften up the troll for me. Fortunately, while difficult to apply, destructive Scripts are spectacularly effective. In this case, I need something that will get me through a troll’s primary defense. Primary defense aside from being large, strong, and angry. So around the bait Script, I lay another that will, if it works, remove the skin of anything inside it’s area of effect. An area I spend extra time defining very precisely.

It takes me most of the day to lay everything out. Once I have, though, there’s nothing left to do but activate the illusion, lay out the fuses behind me as I move into a tree, trusting that trolls, like most other things, never look up, and wait.

###

I wake to the sound of something crashing through the woods. It’s dark and cold, but thanks to my cat’s eyes, the dim light really doesn’t matter to me. The cold matters more, especially since I strangely both feel hot and am shivering at the same time.

Pretty sure I’m running a fever.

Whatever’s moving through the trees is very big and moving in my direction. I shift slightly, getting ready and watching where my illusion Script still produces the scent of a fresh kill. It seems a little odd to be excited about the giant thing headed in my direction. Like this is the point where the audience is yelling at the heroine to run in a horror movie. Not that my life is a horror movie. I still have fond dreams of getting powerful enough for monsters to run at the sight of me.

Off to one side of my hiding place a tree is pushed to the side, its trunk cracking and popping, as a large shape steps past it onto the game trail. It stands taller than me by a ridiculous margin, even hunched over. Claws drag on the ground from heavily muscled and too long arms, thick legs like tree stumps complement its movement, stomping with every step. Its head juts forward from its neck in a smooth line, it’s skull almost bullet shaped. Small, beady eyes are set deep into its skull, and its large mouth hangs open slightly, drool dripping from peg-like teeth.

My gaze, though, is focused on the back of its neck. One of the few weaknesses of the troll species is that their spines haven’t quite caught up, evolution-wise, with their hunched posture. So the spine is curved in a way that forces the vertebrate to separate. If you can get through the leathery skin, getting a knife into the spine there is relatively easy. I just have to remember to leave the knife there until the thing is completely dead, or it’ll just get up again in an hour or two.

The troll pauses at the edge of the small open space, and some feline instinct that came with either the eyes or the reflexes, has me crawling on trembling arms and legs onto a branch that stretches out closer to where the illusion Script is.

The troll raises its snout into the air snuffling wetly. I freeze on the branch. The troll stomps closer to the bait Script and pauses. I lean forward slightly confused, what’s it... it's looking at the fuse.

Oh crap... maybe trolls aren’t as dumb as I’d thought, which could be a problem.

It leans forward to snuffle at the twisted strip of paper, then starts to look around.

I’m not here, I’m not here. I chant over and over again in my head and go completely still. I’m not here...

For a moment I feel like I’m engaging in some great effort. My lungs burn, my heart hammers, and sweat rolls down my face.

The troll looks right at me, then keeps looking around, sniffing, without pausing.

I have no idea what just happened, but at the moment I don’t care. I’m not here, I’m not here.

Finally, the troll keeps moving forward, continually scenting the air, until it stands almost on top of the illusion Script. Carefully, I cut my thumb and began whispering the Script.

I’m not here, I’m not here.

Finally, the Scripts activate and the troll jerks, pulled in too many directions at once. The moment the Scripts light up, I press my bloody thumb against the second fuse to activate the last Script and hold my breath. For several panicked and strained beats of my heart nothing happens. Then the troll explodes.

Flesh splits and flies off the troll like scraps of a popping balloon. Skin is flung for distance, and with a not insignificant amount of force. The troll howls in pain as its armor is torn from it. Only my enhanced reflexes allow me to lean out of the way of a hunk of skin that continues upwards to shatter a branch as big around as my arm. I may have overdone one of the descriptors in that Script. That piece of skin probably would have taken my head off had it hit me. Still, a moment later the mass of leathery skin below me is replaced with an equal mass of strange, slick, wet, grey muscle and black bones.

I drop from the tree. The next knife to be tested is gripped tightly in my hand. I land on the creature’s back and for a moment my boots slide across wet, exposed muscle, and then I fall. My knife plunges downwards, but skips off bone. For a moment I think I’ll be caught in my own trap, but then the knife sinks into muscle leaving me hanging from one hand. The troll under me roars, throwing itself back and forth, barely moving at first, but gaining more and more slack as my traps slowly begin to burn out. I use the knife to pull myself up until I can kneel somewhat stably on it’s hunched shoulders. Carefully, I line the knife up with the gap in it’s spine now exposed, though for how long I’m not sure. I can already see skin beginning to regrow across its body. My arms tremble and feel weak, so I lunge forward and land on the knife with all my weight.

The knife sinks home. The troll goes limp where it stands, held up only by the trap, and I only just manage to hang on to the hilt as I slip again. I hang there across the troll’s back, gasping, feeling awful, and focusing as hard as I can on what I want.

It takes far too long for the damn thing to die. By the time it does I’ve slipped into a state somewhere between meditative trance and fever dream. The idea of healing and regeneration is easy to keep in mind though. I’m shivering and aching all over and the desire to feel better is about all I can think of.

When the troll finally dies, the effect is dramatic.

Once again I feel the Script tattoos activate, something flowing through them, distributing itself to my chakras and sinking into my soul. Unlike whatever I’d gotten from the fae, though, this time I feel my body twist and writhe in response, a million little things altering spontaneously. It feels like ants crawling all over the underside of my skin.

Then I start feeling better. My fever breaks almost at once, the red fading from the hundreds of little cuts and bite marks before they, too, fade away. Slowly, I can see the scar on my thumb, where I’ve cut myself over and over again to activate my Scripts, fade away.

A giggle forces its way out of my throat. Holy shit, it worked! Already feeling so much better, I pull myself to my feet, standing on the still upright troll. If I stay where I am I’ll fall asleep, and I have no desire to sleep on a corpse. The hamadryad will be by in the morning to guide me back to my camp, so I can rest before going after the last troll she’s found. I honestly can’t wait, my sleeping bag sounds heavenly right about now.

Also food.

Suddenly I’m really, really hungry.

###

After eating six power bars, a night’s sleep, and another couple of bowls of oatmeal, I’m ready to get back to hunting.

Also, I miss showers.

I set up my next ambush pretty much exactly like the first one. It worked after all, and as my new troll healing has gotten me back to one hundred percent, it should be even easier. I’d done the last troll while in the midst of a fever that probably had me half out of my mind, after all. This will be a cinch.

The trap Scripts have gone up in good positions, the illusion Script is easily placed, and I find the descriptor I’d put too much emphasis on in the flaying script last time. I hide up in a tree again with the ends of the fuses and settle in. This troll even has the courtesy to show up much faster than the last one. Otherwise, its entrance is the same. Lots of stomping and snuffling the air. This one, being a female, is two feet taller and has tusks, but otherwise it really looks much the same as the last troll. It even spots the fuse like the last one had. I’m much more relaxed this time, though. The last troll hadn’t spotted me even when following the fuses. I see no reason the same won't happen here.

Then it looks up and everything goes to shit.

It gives a howling roar and smashes the branch I’m on, and me, off the tree. I hit the ground and roll, narrowly avoiding getting clipped by the branch. I pop to my feet and have to immediately fling myself to the side again to avoid the charging troll. Rolling to my feet, I watch as the beast crashes through a tree, reducing it to splinters. It turns, digging its fore claws into the ground, its hind legs skewing around until it faces me again.

In spite of everything going wrong, and facing down something that I have no business fighting, I find myself smiling. Normally after a hit and fall like that I’d be bruised and sore at the very least, but I can already feel the bruises fading. I feel great, honestly. Which is why when the troll charges me again, I charge it back.

I have no intention of meeting the troll head on, but the unusual action actually causes the troll to stumble slightly. It's probably never seen anything charge it back before. At the last moment I dive off to the side, rolling back to my feet as fast as I can, and run after it. With it already slowing to turn, I catch up quickly and fling myself at its back. My leap lands me on the things lower back, but it does the skew turn again and I’m flung off.

That isn’t going to work, is it?

The trick with trolls is that if what you hit them with doesn’t at least disable them outright, then you’re just wasting time, and there are only three ways to do that aside from overwhelming power. The spine, the weakness I’d used on the last troll, is less useful when I can’t ambush it, and it still has its skin. The eyes, if you have something narrow enough to get through the eye sockets, which my knives aren’t. Or going up through the mouth, which involves getting in its mouth. They tend to bite and while you’ll still kill it, the hand you use is pretty much a write-off.

...Of course, I have just gotten some serious regeneration, so even if I lose the hand I’ll get it back...

I can’t believe I’m seriously considering this.

I duck the troll’s claw as it swings at me and try to stick too close to it for a charge. I’ll hopefully only need one shot at this. I’m not sure, regeneration or not, that I’ll get the opportunity for a second. It flails at me, its swings big, looping, and obvious, which is the only reason I haven’t been hit again. It honestly feels like riding a wave surrounded by rocks. I can’t think about what I’m doing or I’ll fall. I just have to keep going forward, staying ahead of failure by only the scantest of inches.

And like the wave, if I fall off I’ll get broken badly, a thought driven home as I watch one of it’s missed strikes reduce a tree to splinters.

Finally, it leans forward to roar at me, out of frustration I think, and I lunge. Before I can think about what I’m doing, I stuff my right hand, with the knife, into its wide open mouth. I drive the point of the blade upwards as hard as I can. I don’t do more than nick it, the palate bone too tough for me to force my way through, even as thin as it is.

Then it bites down.

I scream as flesh tears, and the bones in my arm are crushed. At the same time it forces its jaws closed, sending the blade of the knife through bone and into its brain. It collapses to the ground, jerking me after it, causing me to scream again.

Broken bones and crushed bones in no way feel the same. A part of me, a large part, wants to just lie there and sob.

I can’t afford to, though.

So I remind myself that it’ll heal, and quickly. That the wound is nowhere near as bad as it would have been yesterday, I would recover, and unless I want all of this to be a waste, I have to move.

I carefully extract my right hand from the troll’s mouth. I can’t let go of the knife, I can’t feel my hand. I can’t grip the knife either, though. So all I can do is grit my teeth and pull as straight out as possible. The skin, thus the tattoo, is shredded. My hand flops, the bones of my forearm, reduced to powder, can’t hold it up. I try not to think about how much that hurt and quickly thrust my intact left hand into the troll’s mouth. Gripping the knife with an intact tattoo, I wait for it to finish dying, focusing on its strength.

Minutes later the Script activates. I’m getting used to the feeling of the tattoos working, it actually feels kind of nice. Though whether that’s in my head or not, I can’t say.

There’s a ripping sound as my body changes again to match my soul. It felt like a really good stretch. Then I feel the cool breeze with an odd intensity. I open my eyes and look down at myself. Trying not to look at my injured arm.

I’m naked.

I’m naked, and surrounded by shreds of fabric that look suspiciously like my clothing.

I’m also ripped. I’ve always been in fantastic shape, but now I’m huge. Built like a female bodybuilder, really.

Rolling to my knees, I pull my left arm out of its mouth, and carefully let my injured arm dangle to keep it as straight as possible. With my intact hand and a foot, I pry the troll’s jaw open with surprising ease. Recovering my knife is slightly more awkward one handed, but I manage. The knife is twisted and ruined, but I’m still not going to just leave it lying around.

Standing, I feel dizzy for a moment, like I’ve stood up too quickly, and something in my torso twinges painfully for just a moment. Shaking my head to clear it, both sensations fade and I swear softly. Female bodybuilder is an understatement and not at all what I want. This will have to be mitigated somehow, I’m going to be too bulky to move easily and...

I hit my head on a branch and stumble backwards.

...There are no branches low enough for my tiny self to hit my head on...

I have a terrible thought, and turn to look at the troll.

What the fuck!? I’m huge! Not as tall as the female troll by a good few feet still, but the difference isn’t nearly what it should be.

I don’t know how tall I am, but it has to be pushing the upper edge of what’s humanly possible. I need to do something about this fast.

I also need to eat.

A lot.

Damn, I’m hungry.


	10. Book 1 - Beauty

“You are still almost exactly nine feet tall.” Cait says rerolling the measuring tape and hopping off the chair she’d climbed onto to reach my head. There had been some concern that I would continue to grow. Neither of us can figure out why, if I had taken the troll’s height, I’m only nine feet as opposed to the troll’s twelve.

I’m largely ignoring her moving around me though, I’m distracted by a sheaf of papers, the results of an analysis Script on myself, in one hand and a sandwich in the other. I’ve found that about five full meals a day keeps me running without issue. It’s a lot of food, and I’ll probably need to do something about it eventually, but it’s workable for the moment.

“Have you figured out what happened yet?” Cait asked, apparently tired of being ignored.

I sigh through my nose and swallow, “I don’t know enough about medicine to know everything that’s happened to me. I know my bones and muscles are extremely dense, and no longer even remotely human. Probably a lot of other things that I don’t know enough to spot. My theory is that somewhere in the back of my head, a troll’s size was an essential contributor to its strength. So when I focused on the trait I wanted I got everything that I thought made it up too.”

I start to sit, then stop myself. In addition to being nine feet tall I weighed considerably more than any of Cait’s chair’s load tolerance. I’ve already broken three without thinking and Cait has promised me that if I break another, she won’t feed me any more until I replace them.

On an unrelated note, the floors of Cait’s book shop are quite comfortable.

“So you got huge.” Cait said, looking at me hands on her hips.

“So I got huge.” I agree, “So when are you going to answer my question?”

“What question?” Cait actually sounds like she has no idea what I’m talking about, in spite of the fact that I’ve already repeated the question three times in the last several days it’s taken my arm to heal.

“Why did a Sidhe of the Tuatha De Denan want to know where you are so badly they’d try to scramble my brains to find out? And why were they so sure that I’m an agent of yours?”

“To be fair you’re human and have nothing that would make them hesitate. A Sidhe would try to enslave you to get a bucket of water. Humans have very little value to them.” Cait points out, “So what’s your next step?”

I glare at her. The expression might have lost some of its impact from the sandwich in my mouth though, “You’re not going to answer the question are you?” I grumbl.

Cait smiles at me, stretching onto her toes she bumps my forehead with hers before rubbing her cheek against mine, “No Kitten, not yet. Hopefully not ever.” She finishes quietly enough that if I hadn’t enhanced my hearing I wouldn’t have heard it. After a moment, during which my glare never faltered even if I did keep eating, she sighs, “I know I fucked up Kitten, and I will make it up to you, I promise. Does the why of it really matter though? You’re not going back to Britain and you killed the only one who knew your name or had seen you. It won’t come up again, let the past lie, please.” Cait’s gaze goes vague and distant, and she shudders crossing her arms, clutching at herself. I reach forward to touch her shoulder, worried. But she shook off whatever memory had consumed her and is back to normal in an instant. “Now what’s your next move?”

I sigh but give up. It’s hard to stay mad at Cait after everything she’s done for me, and even more so with how she treats me. I can still manage irritated though, so I glare at her again. An expression she meets with continued feline indifference, “I’m looking into things with supernatural beauty.”

Cait raises a single eyebrow, “Beauty?”

I blush hard, and shrug, “Well, it looks like totally eliminating the physical alterations from this would reduce the effect massively. Especially because the size was an integral part of the strength in my mind when the trait was taken, separating them would be... difficult, and at best only fix this situation. So the best way to regain and maintain a mostly human appearance going forward is to get something that will actively counteract negative mutations.” I explain, not looking at Cait, “Given that reliable descriptions of most things with some form of enhanced appearance change to match the standard of beauty of the time, there must be some form of active effect on their appearance. Hopefully that will work against negative alterations to my shape and appearance.”

“And you want to feel pretty for once.” Cait adds.

“And I want to feel pretty.” Whatever, I’m still a girl, I’m allowed to be vain, even if I never have been before. Especially if it also helps me towards my goals, “At least, even if this doesn’t work like I hope it will, I’ll still look good however I end up. Unlike...” I wave to my body currently ‘dressed’ in a bed sheet tunic.

“So what are you looking at?” Cait settles herself into my lap, sprawling like a cat and looking up at me.

I roll my eyes but can’t stop my smile, “You’re enjoying this size difference way too much. The obvious choices are devils and fallen angels. But both tend towards the lush seductress look, which is very much not my preferred style. So I looked at other supernatural beauties. Dryads are more my preferred body type, the athletic kind of sexy. But...”

“But you have a lot of dryad friends, and they’ve helped you a lot.” Cait finishes.

“That and I’m kind of worried with what happened after the sacrifice. I don’t really want the small spirits to turn on me. I know they’re a lot more accepting of killing for necessity especially if you only take what you need. But still.”

“So no dryads.” The cat fae prompts me along.

“So no dryads.” I agree, “So I started looking at other things with a similar body plan and found...” I try to reach where I’ve left the books on the floor but can’t quite reach, and can’t really move with Cait sprawled on me, “Do you mind?” I look down at her.

“Nope.” She doesn’t move an inch.

“Fine.” I sigh, “I need to get some telekinesis. I found sirens, like the Greek monsters that tried to get Odysseus. Granted most of their ability to influence people came from their voices, but they are described as having entrancing beauty as well. I’m working off the assumption that they have to make some concessions to aerodynamics so they can't be...” I made a gesture out from my chest.

“Too in the way?” Cait offers. I nod, my blush still hasn’t faded, “So Greece?”

“Yup. Don’t suppose you’ll give me a ride this time?” I poke her in the stomach.

She bats my hand away and pops to her feet heading for the faerie trode, “You coming?” She calls over her shoulder.

Cats.

###

Siren’s aren’t hard to find, their location is pretty clearly spelled out in the Odyssey. Also unnaturally beautiful, winged, and bird footed women hanging out on sea cliffs singing are hard to miss. That being said, getting close enough to kill them is harder, especially for me. Or rather getting close to them with my mind intact. My enhanced hearing means that Odysseus’ solution for his crew of waxed cotton isn’t really going to cut it for me.

Fortunately modern technology has my back. Earplugs crafted to specifically fit my ear’s internal geometry blocks almost everything, battery powered noise canceling headphones take care of the rest, and inscribing both with a Script for silence will hopefully be overkill.

Aeaea is a beautiful island, largely green with sheer stone cliffs leading to hidden beaches behind sunken rocks. Summer would be the perfect time to be here, but the Mediterranean climate makes it pretty nice even in early autumn. The air is warm and the water looks blue and inviting. Those beaches are also where the Sirens like to hang out, sunning themselves on the sand and watching for ships to tempt to their doom. Coming at them from the sea while easy in the sense that they would come to you, is also deeply stupid. You don’t sneak up on somebody from in front of them.

Which is why I’m slowly climbing down one of the cliffs towards where a flock of Sirens are lounging, trying not to be noticed. I’m not here, I’m not here. I chant to myself, straining more than I really should be climbing down this cliff. Then again I am significantly heavier than I was the last time I tried climbing something. Sure I’m stronger too, but strength to weight ratios are far more important in climbing than just how much you can lift. Hopefully this will fix that issue too.

Down on the beach one of the Sirens glances around curiously like they’d just heard something. I press myself to the cliff face, I’m not here, I’m not here, I’m horribly exposed clinging to the light colored stone. I’m pretty much depending on them not looking up to get the drop on them.

After a moment the Siren shrugs and turns back to the important business of getting as much sun as she can.

I let out a breath and keep climbing. Wincing slightly as it feels like something inside of me catches against something else and pulls painfully. The feeling fades after a moment or two though and I keep going.

I’m not here, I’m not here.

I drop onto the sand silently and start to creep in the Siren’s direction. It’s a little odd moving around not hearing anything. I’ve gotten used to my new senses with Ku’s help and now I feel the absence of my sonar worthy hearing far more than I would have my normal hearing.

I’m not here...

Somehow I manage to creep up right behind them without the Siren’s noticing anything. They’re really very pretty I’m happy to see. Sleek athletic curves that go well with broad wings they have spread to catch as much of the warm sun as they can. Their lack of clothes also display everything, and I’m also happy to see that I was right about the... volume of their assets. The bird feet are a little off putting, but hardly a deal breaker. Not something I’ll be acquiring but hardly the worst catch I’ve seen attached to supernatural beauty.

Their hair are all intense colors that, while not natural on humans, aren’t so obvious about it as some supernaturals I’ve seen. The hair also goes well with their eyes, all gorgeous jewel tones...

They’re looking right at me...

How long had I been standing here admiring them?

Fuck.

They looked like they were saying something but my various auditory precautions seem to be working. The looks on their faces might be confused with something seductive, but with my various sensory enhancements I’ve gotten rather good and telling what people are feeling, and they smell pissed.

Getting angrier by the moment too.

Fuck it, stealth is screwed, maybe I can get one of them before they take off though. I lunge forward, the next test knife smoothly drawn from my improvised belt. The Sirens open their mouths unnaturally wide, and in mid lunge I’m swatted away from them by the hand of an angry god.

My knife goes flying and I hit the ground only a few feet back. My entire front side feels bruised, much like when I’d taken the stray devil’s ribbit of doom. I pull myself to my feet as quickly as I can, the bruising already fading.

Note to self, they can do more than entrance with their voices.

This is turning out to be much harder than I thought it would be, and in a different way too. I figured that if I was going to be spotted it would be while I was still on the cliff.

The Sirens have taken to the air and are hovering over the beach, their beauty marred by the snarling expressions and mouths full of very pointy teeth. We stare at each other for a long moment. I spot my knife out of the corner of my eye, and lunge for it.

I short stop myself as the sand in front of me explodes upwards from some sonic assault. The Sirens are circling me now flinging pulses of sound at me from out of my reach. I really need to get myself some ranged options. In desperation I grab a loose stone and fling it at one of the flying women as hard as I can. Which is a good bit harder than I’m expecting, I’m still getting used to my new strength. The stone misses what I was aiming at, center mass, but punched a hole clean through the wing it hit instead.

The Siren plummets to the sand and like it was a signal the Siren’s completely lost it. They dove at me swinging their taloned feet forward, coming after me like I’m a mouse or something, sending me into frantic dodges. I dive left rolling to my feet, and immediately fall backwards again narrowly avoiding talons, one of which could easily wrap around my head. I have to abort the roll as one further away nearly hits me with another sound blast.

In spite of the continual close calls, and the few times that they catch me drawing deep gouges that ooze blood for a few moments before slowly pulling themselves shut or leaving bruises that fade even faster, I’m smiling. This is much more like the kind of fight I’m trained for. Really they never should have come within arms reach of me.

Finally getting my feet under me I slip the next dive bomb, my hand snapping out and grabbing the Siren by the ankle. A quick jerk downwards sends the bird woman face first into the sand. The unnatural angle of her head tells me that her neck isn’t up to taking her own momentum.

They come at me faster then, but I’ve hit my stride. I slip between a set of grasping talons, ignoring the lines of blood drawn across my chest and back, and throw my first punch in a fight with my new strength. I can feel her rib cage snapping like popcorn as my fist impacts her chest with my own muscle and her dive behind it.

I backhand another out of the air, as she tries to take me from behind. I pivot around a third, duck under her wings and sent her into the beach with a hammer fist. A stomp on her wing makes sure she isn’t going anywhere.

I turn just in time to take a pair of fisted talons to the face. The blow knocks me on my ass and breaks my nose. My return to my feet is somewhat slower this time, and not just because I take a moment to straighten my nose. Wait... do I even need to do that any more? I’m pretty sure that troll regeneration will set bones somehow, but at the moment I can’t remember.

The Siren that’s just gotten me is diving for me again, an ugly look on her otherwise pretty face. I manage to slip between her talons and catch her around her middle into a classic hip throw. I fall backwards into an ugly but effective modified arm bar on her wing that snaps it like a twig. The pain of the broken wing stuns her long enough for me to straddle her and begin a ground and pound. I get in two punches which she manages to mostly avoid by jerking her head to one side then the other, before she opens her mouth, and something hits me in the face.

It feels like every capillary in my face pops at once and the blow knocks me upright just in time for another Siren to snatch me off her flock mate. This time I scream as talons as long as my hand dig into both shoulders and pull me off the ground.

I try to reach up and break a leg or something to get her to let me go, but I feel something catch and pull inside my torso and I can’t lift my arms enough to do anything. Instead I’m slowly pulled into the air, jerked higher one wing beat at a time. Each wing beat also sends a burning lance of pain through me everywhere the bird woman's talons are driven into me.

Finally the siren reaches the height she wants and dives, again taking me with her. Even through the haze of pain what it’s doing is pretty obvious. She’s going to let me go and pull up at the last moment cratering me into the beach. I have no idea how I can stop her so instead I try to reach for the Siren’s legs again. This time nothing caught and I get her by the ankles. So when she tries to let go of me, she comes along for the ride anyway.

I hit the ground hard enough to white out for a moment. Even half unconscious I struggle towards my feet trying not to scream again as I pull myself off the siren’s talons. If I look like I’m down for the count, or even sufficiently weakened, they’ll either kill me or grab their wounded and flee. Either would be bad. My vision begins to clear as I gain my feet, which makes standing much easier. My headphones have been lost somewhere in the fight, but my ear plugs are still in place. The Sirens aren’t really trying for anything as subtle as mesmerism anymore anyway.

The Siren that pulled me into the air had hit the ground in front of me and had broken like a bag of dry twigs when she did. I turn and glare up at the remaining flock. They hover there in the air staring at me with hate, but they aren’t diving anymore.

Which is fair. I just dropped five of them and I’m still standing, the wounds in my shoulders visibly closing. I’m careful not to show how my stomach is attempting to digest my spine.

We stare each other down for several minutes, before they turn and fly away. I’d say fled, but they don’t really give off that impression, more like I’ve proven that I’m not worth the effort. They do leave me what I came for though.

I retrieve my knife and move back over to the Siren that I’d been snatched off of. This is harder than the trolls had been. She looks remarkably human, aside from the wings, feet, and coloration. Her expression of pain is something that could have been on a human face.

I don’t hesitate though. This is what I’ve committed to, what I’ve been driving for. I can’t afford to stumble on this path or I’ll never make it to the end. The knife goes into the Siren’s chest, and immediately I felt the change. Much faster than having to wait for the troll to give up and die.

My body pulls inwards, less like I’m losing mass, and more like I’m being compacted. Hopefully I’ll actually lose enough weight to sit in a chair again.

I really miss chairs.

Moments after it starts the changes end. I’m swimming in the improvised clothing that Cait had found for me so I’ve definitely shrunk. How much I’m not sure, but I’m definitely still bigger than I used to be though.

I also have a chest! Not huge by any means, which is good, I don’t want huge, but decently sized! Noticeable! Even if they are still on the small side.

Also I’m even hungrier now with all the healing.

My stomach roars.

A lot hungrier. I’d be amazed if I have any blood sugar left the way my head is beginning to pound.

That had been a hard fight. Much harder than I thought it would be. I hadn’t expected their voices to be such effective weapons. Physical impacts, shattering rock explosively. If my hearing protection wasn’t as complete as it was I have no doubt that they could have done a lot more.

I glance over where the Siren that I winged is trying to sneak up on me. I do, do a lot of singing for my Scripts, and I had just noted the need for a ranged option. The last Siren snarls, then purses her lips. I fling myself to the side, but the skin on my rib cage is still ripped open. A moment later I’m on my feet and lunging for her.

With her injured wing dragging behind her and bird feet not suited to movement on the ground, she doesn’t really have much chance of evading me.


	11. Book 1 - Power

This hunger thing is now officially a problem.

The good news is that acquiring the Siren’s beauty did exactly what I was hoping. I’m no longer a nine foot tall muscle bound behemoth. Now I’m a much more reasonable six foot three. Which is still more than a foot taller than I’m used to.

Ku’s exercises for adapting to physical changes are going to get a real workout.

The rest of my appearance has enjoyed a similarly dramatic change. My raptor yellow eyes have turned to a beaten gold, the slit pupils are unchanged though. My hair has gone from a mousy auburnish brown, to a red so dark that it looks black in most light. My features haven’t changed really, they’ve just been... refined? Polished? Okay, somehow the Siren’s beauty has taken my thoroughly unimpressive features, and made them beautiful without changing anything. Magic is the only explanation I can come up with.

I’m also ripped. I’ve always been in fantastic shape, but female bodies don’t always show that well. Now I’m chiseled, I have a freaking six pack! It’s awesome. And while I actually need a bra now, they still aren’t big enough to get in my way. As far as I’m concerned, it’s perfect.

Which is not to say everything is. It’s been a week since Greece and I’m hungry constantly, in spite of also eating constantly. The only time I’m not eating is when I’m asleep, and I wake up starving. I have a headache almost constantly, and that ache in my middle never goes away.

Worse, I'm slowly losing ground.

Fortunately, it’s easy to determine what’s wrong. I’m attempting to run a troll’s strength and regeneration, a Siren’s voice, plus whatever active effects their beauty comes with that changed my body this way, all my previous animal based enhancements, and whatever I’d gotten from the Sidhe, on the energy a normal human body can produce via calories. Suffice it to say that I quite simply, physically, can not eat enough to power my body.

Which means that I need a better power plant. The obvious answer would be to run down a stray devil, and tear whatever they make magic with out of them. I can probably pry the Script to make my own out of the analysis of the rook piece instead, but I have no idea how long that would take. I’m once again on a clock, this one just ends in days instead of years.

I end up discarding the idea of a devil core all together, because I have no idea if the next universe I land in will support magic. If wherever I find myself disallows magic then I’m back to square one, and starving again at best. I probably won’t have as many options to fix the problem either.

So no devil magic. Holy power and whatever Yokai use is out for the same reason. It’s a problem with a lot of the sources of power available.

In fact in the week that Cait, Pua, and myself have been searching everything we can lay our hands on, we only find one good answer.

Vampires.

Vampires are odd creatures from a magical perspective, and not just because they have a natural way of accomplishing what took the devil's several millennia and an unparalleled genius to accomplish.

‘Vampire’, when not speaking to a layman, is the term for any creature that subsists on the life energy of other beings. Either because they no longer produce any of their own, or they have some additional passenger that requires more than they naturally have. The method of extracting said life energy is immaterial to the definition. Which is why hungry ghosts which feed via possession, hopping vampires which feed on breath, and the standard European variety which feed on blood, are all considered ‘vampires’.

And then it gets interesting. Vampires as it turns out do not actually possess ‘supernatural’ strength or speed as a discreet ability. However the life energy circulating through their bodies the way it does passively enhances everything about them. Thus the longer they live, the more life energy they saturate themselves with and can hold, the more they improve. It’s also a process that doesn't ever stop. When muscles can no longer be improved, they naturally develop metaphysical systems that will allow them to use that life energy to continue to improve their strength, more like devils and other more normal supernatural entities do. Which is why the older a vampire is the more powerful it inevitably becomes.

And then they get even better, vampires also use this life energy system to fuel the widest variety of inborn powers of any known supernatural species. I mean come on! Regeneration, strength, speed, enhanced senses, mesmerism, telekinesis, shape shifting, weather control, flesh shaping, there’s even one vampire on record who can cause earthquakes at will. All of them running on the same energy source.

So a supernatural system that will improve everything about me passively, if slowly, fuel any powers I care to pick up, and the best part, if I end up in a universe that doesn’t support life energy I have bigger problems. So the life energy system will work anywhere I can. I even have ideas about Scripting up a weapon that would take the life energy of anything I kill with it, and feed the energy to me via my already present tattoos to recharge me while I fought.

First I need a vampire though, and wouldn’t you know it, I just happen to know where to find a lot of them. I doubt L.A. has changed that much in the last two years.

###

Sarah and I have an agreement, before I pop in from the transit Script, I’ll call or text and, this is the important part, wait for a response before heading over. I only needed to surprise her once in the middle of... things once before we agreed that it’s something that needed to never happen again.

This time I text, I’m not sure she’ll believe that I’m me unless she sees me using the Script that only I know how to use. My voice, much like my features, is still recognizably mine, just musical now. How can it still be my voice when it has tones and qualities that mine has never possessed...?

Magic, moving on.

I’ve packed the last two testing knives and enough clothes to last long enough for Sarah to take me shopping for more. She’d hurt me if I didn’t let her help rebuild my wardrobe.

My phone dings, checking it shows Sarah is ready for me to head over. I shoulder my bag, wave to Cait, set my cell phone camera pointing at where I think Sarah will be, and activate the Script. It’s a very new experience. The cut on my thumb heals almost before I can get my blood on the Script. My voice, now beautiful as I sing the Script, pulls energy through it faster than I’ve ever seen in an externally powered Script.

There’s the bizarre sensation of being in two places at once, and then I’m in a dorm room.

“Ericka! I haven’t heard from you in a month or... HOLY SHIT WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?” Sarah starts greeting me from where she’s working at her desk, and has started talking before she turns around. Her expression when she does turn to look at me is totally worth the beating I’ll get for taking that picture, “No seriously what happened to you?” She stands from her chair, plants her fists on her hips and I have the unique experience of having Sarah glare up at me. Her five foot nine frame doesn’t seem so towering any more. 

Imagine that.

“First!” I hold up a finger, drop my bag, and take half a step to scoop Sarah up in my arms. When we were teenagers she had always hugged me like this. Picking me up and walking off with me, or just rocking me back and forth like a pendulum. I’d always told her I’d eventually be tall enough to do it to her.

She laughed at me.

Which is fair, there’s no way I would have naturally grown this tall. However I’ve done it though I have, and this needed to happen before anything else. Priorities you know. Finally I give in to her smacking me in the ribs and put her down.

“Now,” Sarah primly sits herself down on her bed and waves me to the chair she’d been in, “tell me what the hell you’ve been doing to yourself. This is somewhat more extreme than cat’s eyes and bat’s ears.” She says waving a hand at me.

I grab a power bar out of my bag, and in between bites I find myself recounting what the last few weeks have been like for me. I describe my encounter with the Sidhe who’s name I never learned. I’m torn between tears and rage as I speak about him, tears for what almost happened, and rage for what had. I talk about the trolls, and the unforeseen results of absorbing the troll’s strength. This has Sarah rubbing her nose and sighing in exasperation and waving me to continue. I tell her about my brawl with the Sirens and what I gained there. Finally I tell her about how I’ve been getting hungrier and hungrier, how I’m slowly starving from all the things my body is trying to support, and my solution to it.

“Jesus fuck Ericka. You sat in Hawaii for two years, and I thought you were finally slowing down. Then you do this in... what? Three? Four weeks?”

I shrug, “Something like that.”

“Are you trying to make up for lost time?” Sarah demands exasperated.

“Well no... It’s just... after the second troll I was basically playing catch up. I couldn’t really function in the world at nine feet tall. So I had to fix that, and now I’m going to starve to death while eating if I don’t do something about that.” I pause for a moment then pull another power bar out of my bag and start in on it, “Like I said, always hungry.”

Sarah stares at me for a moment then slumps and sighs, “Fine. You’re lucky I love you, you little menace.”

I smirk at her, “Not so little any more.”

“That reminds me!” Sarah glares at me and surges to her feet sticking a finger in my face, “You scared the crap out of me when you showed up like this with no warning! And you took a picture! You better have a way to make it up to me,” She leans in eyes narrowed, “or you will suffer my wrath.”

“I need to replace my entire wardrobe, and have a lot of the money I’ve saved since I was fifteen to do it with.” I deadpan.

“Shopping spree on you? Even if it’s also for you? Sold!”

###

Shopping is a lot of fun. Sarah is less pushy than she had been when we were younger, and I’m less self conscious than I had been. Now that I actually look good, I’m more than willing to show it off. The only thing that marrs the day is my need to always have food, and the strange painful catching feeling I keep having. I have no idea what that is, but if the trend continues it’s going to get worse until I do something about it.

One problem at a time though.

Finishing our initial outing, somehow I end up in the guys position carrying the bags, we head back to Sarah’s dorm. Like we had when moving Sarah into her dorm, we get ready to go clubbing.

The last time we’d gone clubbing it had been a nightmare. Vampires were everywhere and I was terrified that any one of them might take an interest in us, because at that point in time there had been nothing I could have done to even slow them down. There’s also been the issue that nobody wanted to dance with me, even people I wasn’t attracted to. That was less dangerous but far more damaging to my ego.

Now as we enter the large warehouse club that had the highest vampire population the last time we were out, I’m surrounded by guys immediately. Each of them trying to grab my attention, or dance against me or offer me a drink.

It is true what they say, you don’t understand what you have until it's gone.

Seriously though I’m detecting an unexpected problem with having supernatural beauty. I’m used to unexpected problems. unexpected problems are the story of my life. This one still feels different.

Maybe I can make a Script that has a mild aversion field to balance this...

Sarah yanks me out of the crowd and onto the dance floor, “Sorry I took so long, those assholes didn’t want to get out of my way.” She shouts and leans against my front to get closer to my ear to make sure she’s heard over the music. Then she pokes me in the forehead right on the tattoo over my third eye, “And no working. That was your magic scribbles face. None of that until you find a vampire.”

I just smile at her and nod. So we dance. I’ve never been good at dancing, after years of fighting, movement without purpose is something I just can’t make myself do. Sarah however never had my issues despite having been fighting for as long as I have. I blame cheerleading. She works some magic that only she possesses and somehow coaxes me into dancing with her. Though the catching pulling pain in my body somewhere that keeps cropping up certainly makes it harder for her.

I let Sarah lead as I keep watch on the people around us. Sarah’s amulet has activated more than a dozen times since we entered the club, so I know that there are blood suckers in here somewhere. They’re being subtle though.

So how to draw them out.

Some small voice in the back of my head insists that kissing Sarah would get everybody's attention. That however is the way one attracts boys, which is the opposite of what I want.

Vampires... Blood?

I don’t think I’ll keep a small cut long enough to bleed sufficiently. I’m not about to ask Sarah to shed blood, aside from just not wanting to hurt her, I don’t want to attract a vampire to her.

...But I don’t need to get them to come to me, I just need them to stop blending in so well.

I lean forward to Sarah’s ear, “Can you find an excuse to break somebody's nose?”

Sarah leans back to get a look at my face, so I can see the moment the penny dropped and she figures out why I want her to assault somebody. A quick nod and she starts looking for a believable victim. Not that she has a shortage of choices. We’re exclusively dancing with each other, which somehow doesn’t translate to ‘we’re here with each other, leave us alone’. Instead the guys seem to think it meant, ‘convince us to dance with you instead’.

How that works, I don’t know, but it did result in us being surrounded by a crowd of guys. Some of whom are getting increasingly handsy. It only takes a few moments for one of them to volunteer.

I can spot when she finds her target. She straightens up suddenly, her eyes widening. Then they narrowed in fury. She spins on the ball of her foot to face the man behind her, who looks like he’s won the lottery.

Instead of... whatever he’s expecting, he gets a right cross to the face.

His nose explodes in blood and he goes down like a felled tree. At least that’s what it sounds like, I’m busy scanning the crowd. Most of the folks around me are recoiling in shock or laughing and cheering. The scent of arousal also spiked which confuses the hell out of me. But there’s one guy who’s head snapped around, nostrils flared.

And we have a winner.

The bouncers are on us almost immediately, more than a little pissed. However we’re hot girls, and the guy was seen groping Sarah’s ass by at least a dozen people. So the bouncers drag the guy off, glare the crowd of guys back a few feet, apologize for letting the asshole in, in the first place and leave us to our dancing.

While Sarah placates the bouncers I watch my suspected vampire. I watch where he goes, who he talks to, and perhaps most importantly how he talks to them. The differences between a young vampire’s ‘you look like totally delicious prey’ behavior, his ‘you’re my equal and I hate you for it’ behavior, and his ‘you are an older vampire than me, please don’t kill me’ behavior is easy to spot after a little observation.

The first is depressingly similar to the way any desperate partially drunk college guy behaves trying to get laid.

The second involves the veneer of comradery while the two seethe at each other.

The last involves a lot of submissive behaviors and groveling.

Watching various vampires interact with each other lets me map out who’s who with only an hour or so of observation. Fortunately there don’t seem to be any vampires too powerful here, so I don’t need to worry about being ambushed by something I just can’t fight. They also all seem to frequent something through a guarded door, probably a VIP room. I also see three different vampires take humans back through that door while I’m watching, so probably also a private place to feed.

Why can’t they have done that in an alley where I can easily sneak up on them?

Still that’s evidently where I need to go, unless I want to chance shanking one of them in the middle of the club. Which sounds like just the worst idea.

“I’ve found what I’m looking for, I’m gonna try and do this quickly. If I can’t or get caught I’ll meet you back at your dorm room.” I tell Sarah, pressing my mouth right up against her ear so she can hear me without me having to shout anything incriminating. Sarah looks at me for a moment searchingly, but finally nods.

We separate, Sarah to go dance with a guy she’s been eyeing and is free to pursue now that she doesn’t have to help keep the rest of the club off of me. Meanwhile I try to sneak through the dancing crowd without attracting the attention of any opportunistic blood suckers, or vampires.

My sneaking mantra, I’m not here, I’m not here, runs through my head as I move through the dancing mass. I have a lot of people run into me during this, which combined with my insides catching against themselves has me nearly face planting into the floor. Still, I’m not here, I’m not here, I manage to make it across the floor without incident. I’m gasping for air by the time I get to the VIP door, my stomach feels like it’s been stabbed and it isn’t stopping this time.

Apparently two hours of dancing without eating anything, is way more than my body is willing to put up with at this point. Why it suddenly gets worse now is an explanation that I don’t have, but I have to work around it anyway. I’m not here, I’m not here.

I wait by the door trying to look like I’m just checking my cell phone as I wait for another vampire to open the door for me. I’m not here, I’m not here. The bouncer stationed next to the door kindly ignores my presence as we both wait for the next vampire to come by.

I’m not here, I’m not here. By the time one does, I’m nearly doubled over from the hunger pains. This can’t go on much longer. My hands are beginning to shake, and my head is pounding. I’mnohere, I’mnothere. Finally though the bouncer opens the door for an extraordinarily pale girl, about my original size, supporting a muscled guy at least twice her size without apparent effort.

The girl vampire carys her dinner through the door and I sneak in behind them. I’mnothereI’mnothere. I’m gasping for air, sweat pours down my face and my hands won’t stop trembling. My headache is so bad I’m seeing double. Still I manage to draw one of my knives from where I have them hidden in my club gear, which is hard but possible if uncomfortable, and move on vampire girl.

I wrap an arm around her neck pulling her off her feet and causing her to drop her man snack. Before she can catch up to what’s happening, I drive the knife into her back between her ribs and into her heart.

She jerks once and the Script lights.

I feel better almost immediately, my body altering itself again as something uncoiled from my heart through my body. There aren’t very many of whatever it is, but it’s enough that my trembling and headache start fading almost immediately.

I let out a sigh of relief and relax. I’m still hungry, but not nearly so cripplingly as I have been. Vampire girl slides from my slackened grip, and hits the floor with a thud next to her attempted juice box. She doesn’t turn to dust or burst into flame... this could be awkward. In my desperation I haven’t really been paying attention to the hallway I’m in. It hadn’t seemed important next to imminent starvation.

“How many times have we been told to not feed in the hallway... Oh shit.” Which is why I only notice then how effective the sound proofing on the door behind me is. Or that there are numerous other doors in this hallway, one of which has just opened. Out of it comes one of the guys I pegged as a vampire earlier. He takes in the living and dead bodies at my feet, the bloody knife in my hand, and comes to an obvious and accurate conclusion, “Hunter bitch!”

Okay, not entirely accurate.

Well, that shout no doubt warned every other vampire in here that something is up. I’ll have to worry about that later though because he’s lunging at me, fingers stretched out before him having turned to claws.

I plant a hand in his chest to stop his charge, but he manages to sink his claws into my shoulders and starts pulling himself forward. I just barely can’t stop him with one arm, his exposed fangs slowly inch closer to my neck. That I’m just stronger than a fledgling vampire is good information to have, but not really what I want to experiment with right now.

I stab this vampire in the armpit, knife angled to pierce his heart. He doesn’t even try to defend himself, too focused on biting me to see what I’m doing, and the Script lights again. What I’d stolen from the first vampire... improved in some way. It stretches to more places, covers more of my body, and just feels... like more than it had before.

I’ll have to think about it later, because other doors are opening in front of me, and even more that I can’t see. Vampires emerging in ones or twos and, like the one that had come before them, come to mostly accurate conclusions.

I try to turn to run the moment the first vampire drops, but my insides catch against each other again, harder, more painful this time. I nearly go crashing to the floor, but catch myself. Another attempt gets me two steps before it happens again.

Apparently running isn’t an option.

I focus on the dozen or so vampires visible in the hallway, analyzing what I’m up against. They’re snarling and showing their fangs and inching forward, slightly hesitant from the two already dead on the floor. It’s a narrow hallway, they won’t be able to come at me more than two at a time, and would probably get in each other’s way if they do. They all have the same stance as well, feet parallel to each other, leaning forward hands spread like they’re going to try and tackle me, fingers spread and curled into claws. In essence nothing that indicates even a bit of competence in fighting hand to hand. They probably rely on their strength and speed to take on humans.

I have them beat in strength, if only just. They probably still have me beat in speed and, even if they don't, I can’t move that much without feeling like there’s a fish hook in my guts. So I’ll need to beat and kill a dozen or so vampires while moving as little as possible. At least the wounds in my shoulders have healed in record time, and my headache and trembling have stopped completely.

The first lunges for me thrusting a clawed hand at my head. I slide my front foot forward and out, taking myself off of the line of his thrust. At the same time I lifted my knife enough for the vampire’s own charge to drive the blade into his heart.

The Script triggers again, more improvements of my new vampire... circulatory system? Sure I’ll go with that.

The next lunges for my waist, and gets stabbed in the heart through his back for his troubles.

Another Script trigger.

The next comes with a friend. I move to put them in each other's way, but find that even that much movement triggers the catch and pull of my internals. The one in the lead has to be suffering from some sort of blood frenzy because he lunges teeth first at my neck. I slap him off course with my off hand and into a headlock. My knife arm wraps around his neck and drives the blade up into his chest.

The Script lights.

The second takes advantage of the free shot at my ribs that my planned movement would have prevented. Troll bones save anything from breaking, but they sure as hell bruised. I drop the vampire corpse that I still have in the head lock letting it slide off the knife. Pivoting on the balls of my feet I slap the second vampire’s follow up strike to the side. I grab his arm and pull him further off balance so he falls onto my knife.

The Script lights.

This is something of a disaster. The knife seems to be stuck on the first thing I had it steel and now won’t stop. Each activation steals from the victim, and adds to the vampire life energy system I now have. Each improvement spreads the vampiric energy system through my body more thoroughly, and the further it spreads the less movement it takes for my body to start catching on itself.

I can’t just let them kill me though.

So a stab, and the Script lights.

A slash, the Script lights.

A lucky stagger, the Script lights.

All the while I take blows to my head and chest. Bites to my arms and shoulders. Slashes with claws to anything they can reach.

It keeps going until I can barely move at all, and there are only three of them left. The bravest of the three swaggers forward as I fight to keep myself upright without moving anything.

When he reaches me, ignoring the bodies and the blood on his way, he grabs my hair and tilts my head up to look at him, “Well. You were quite scary!” Condescending prick. I’d be less pissed at him over it if I thought he gave a shit about any of the vampires on the floor, “Not too smart though.” Says the man, monologuing, “Attacking a coven all by yourself...” He shakes his head clucking at me as if in disappointment. If this is a full coven, I’m the Easter Bunny. This is just an easy hunting ground for new vamps, I can tell by how I'm still alive, “Still you did better than I would have thought you would. You know I think I’ll turn you.” This vampire is way too smug, “You’ll make a great toy.” His grin turns savage and he leans in towards my neck.

I can’t move, that painful pulling feeling stopping me... Well that isn’t quite true. Nothing stops me from moving, I just don’t because of the pain. Pain is a warning against doing something damaging. Usually, I never advocate ignoring that warning... Well no, as Sarah would say that’s a dirty, dirty lie. I push myself through pain all the time in training, and regret it almost every time.

This time it seems like the lesser of two evils.

I can feel the hot breath on my neck, the points of sharp teeth teasing skin. I clench my jaw and jerk my arm upwards, the knife going in through his stomach and up. Something inside me, catches, pulls taut, then tears as I force myself to keep moving anyway. I screame in pain through gritted teeth. Something inside of me feels loose and burns with pain, though my regeneration is already starting to soothe the hurt.

The Script lights again.

The vampire only gasps once, then slides to the side off my knife. I straighten slowly, I wish just for effect, but it’s more because I can’t move any faster. The two remaining vampires don’t know that though. They also don’t know that, at the moment, a month old kitten can probably kick my ass. All they see is a human that had offed ten or eleven, I wasn’t keeping track, vampires stand up apparently ready to come after them.

They did what I hoped for, and ran.

No way that would come back to bite me later.

###

For the second time Sarah has to collect me, barely moving and covered in blood, from an alley after a fight. She encouraged me to not let there be a third time. She gets progressively less snarky and irritated, and more worried as we make our way back to the dorm room though. Her humor vanishes altogether when she has to half carry me up the stairs. I barely move until I’m dumped onto her bed, and even then I manage to tear two more things inside of myself going up the stairs.

“You’re covered in blood, can you get to the shower?” Sarah asks crouching next to me on the bed, one hand on my shoulder.

I try to shake my head, feel something in my neck catch and croak out, “No.” instead. God, I hope I haven’t crippled myself.

Sarah lets out a strange whining sound from somewhere in the back of her throat, “Did they get a piece of you?”

“Yeah.” I carefully don’t nod, “But that’s not what this is. I don’t know what this is, but it’s a problem.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She mutters, “I’m going to get these clothes off of you.” I murmur a 'bow chicka bow wow' and get gently smacked upside the head for my troubles, “Shut up. If you’re making jokes, you can’t be that hurt.”

She pulls off my shoes, then pants, and finally helps me sit up to peel the remains of my bloody shirt off. As soon as the scraps of shirt cloth are gone she stalls, “Oh my god.” I tilt my head down and find my torso is a mass of ugly bruises that, for whatever reason, aren’t fading like everything else has since I got my regeneration.

“Oh that can’t be good.” I murmur, leaning back. Sarah takes the cue and lays me back down on the bed.

“Ericka.” Sarah’s voice is tight and high, “I’m freaking out here. What should I do?”

“No idea.” I quip to cover the terror that’s slowly growing in me.

“That’s not helpful!” Sarah half shrieks.

“Right.” If I breathe slowly nothing seems to catch, which is good because breathing is one of those things that I can’t really do without. The inability to move is bad enough, “Get my phone. Go to my contacts list, find Pua, then hold the phone so I can talk into it.”

With something to do Sarah scrambles and moments later I have the phone pressed up against my ear. I lay very still with my eyes closed while the phone rings. Fortunately it doesn’t take long.

“Aloha!” Pua’s happy voice comes over the phone, “How is your hunting going, Ericka?”

“Both well and horribly.” I rasp out.

The cheer is gone from her voice almost immediately, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, that’s what’s wrong.” And isn’t that frustrating? I’m so ready for things to just work for a change, “I can’t really move without injuring myself more. I have troll healing and my torso is a giant bruise that is only going away very slowly.”

Pua makes an interesting sound over the phone, “Did you get the vampire to power it? Could it not be working because you don’t have the energy?”

“I got ten vampires, and I’m not hungry at the moment which is awesome, but this got worse the more vampires I killed. Pua I can’t move without tearing my insides a part, I...” I swallow glancing up at Sarah who’s looking down at me very worried. I’m about to make that so much worse, “I’m terrified I’ve broken myself.” I whisper.

Sarah blanches and there’s no reply from the phone for a moment, “Are you somewhere with one of your travel Script anchors?”

“Sarah’s dorm room.” I tell her and rattle off the ‘address’ in spoken Script.

“All right, we'll be there in a few minutes.” Pua hangs up and I relax into Sarah’s suddenly comfortable dorm bed.

“So?” Sarah asks, putting the phone away.

“Get the transit Script out. Help’s coming.” God, I’m tired. But I can’t really sleep with all the adrenaline in my system.

God, I hope Pua can help.


	12. Book 1 - Sacrifice

I wake up somewhere very much not L.A.. The air is warm and wet, a breeze blows gently through the room, and an odd chirping noise fills the air. It sounds familiar but I can’t quite place it.

I open my eyes and immediately clench them shut again. Warm golden sunlight fills the room that’s at least fifty percent windows. Where the fuck am I? The universe declines to answer.

I’m not going to get any answers by laying around so I push myself up, and immediately collapse back down with a scream. The last night comes rushing back about the same time Pua and Sarah come rushing into the room.

Oh. I’m back in Hawaii and the chirping is the house gecko chorus.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Sarah sounds a little frantic.

Pua on the other hand merely walks to the bed, checks me over, then smacks me on the shoulder, “Why were you trying to get up?”

I don’t shrug, though I want to, “I was still waking up and couldn’t figure out where I was. Figured the only way to get answers was to go looking for them.”

“So you tried to sit up.” Pua finishes for me.

“So I tried to sit up.” I agree. Sarah, looking far less concerned now gets in on the action and smacks me as well, “Given how fucked up I appear to be should you two be hitting me like that?” Pua sighs and pulls up a chair while Sarah sits on the edge of my bed, “Well this doesn’t look good.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you physically.” Pua starts.

“The tearing pain whenever I try to move would indicate otherwise.” I can’t help myself. It get a grin out of Sarah and rolled eyes from Pua so mission accomplished.

“Other than when you fuck yourself up, there’s nothing wrong with you physically. The problem is that you’ve been stuffing a lot of things into your soul that aren’t supposed to be there, and neither of us considered that just randomly adding things might create conflict.” Pua leans forward, setting her elbows on her knees, “Every time you add something it’s like you’re throwing a string into a box. With one string it isn’t a problem, with two you’re probably still okay. The more you add though, the more tangled everything gets. Until eventually everything is tangled with everything else. So when you do something, which would be pulling on one of the strings, everything else gets pulled as well. This is reflected in your body as things moving in ways and directions that they shouldn’t, leading to tearing when you get insistent.”

That... makes a kind of sense. When building a laptop making everything fit is a rather major part of designing it. What I’ve done is the equivalent of wiring everything together and trying to stuff it all in the case just hoping that it’ll fit. So then, “What do we do about it? I’m effectively crippled right now, which I’d like to fix.”

Pua groans, “The ‘simplest’,” She actually makes the finger quotes, “answer would be to craft a ritual compatible with what you’ve already done to make sure everything integrates better in the future... and a temporal aspect to fix this in a way that will also address what you’ve already done to yourself. As if all of that isn’t enough, you’ve saturated yourself in the concept of ‘sacrifice’, both yours and others, that the ritual will pretty much have to be sacrificial in nature to integrate smoothly. So we need to figure out what to sacrifice, and exactly we’re asking for.” The Kahuna scrubs her face with her hands, “It’ll have to be one hell of a sacrifice too. On the order of a few hundred people at least.”

“What!” Sarah shrieks, making me flinch slightly, and regret it the second I do, “No! Killing one rapist and a bunch of monsters is one thing. I didn’t like it but I understood the necessity after nothing else worked. I am not letting her become a mass murderer. That’s not something that you can come back from!” Sarah is incensed, and not really exercising restraint as she vents herself on Pua.

For her part Pua takes the tirade in stride, “I’m not saying that she should, just giving that as an example of the degree of sacrifice that will be necessary.”

“What the hell else is worth as much as a few hundred people?” Sarah demands. It’s a fair question. All that potential, all those futures and histories, where else do you find that sort of thing?

“Self sacrifice generates more than the sacrifice of others, so it would theoretically take less...” Pua tries but Sarah isn’t really listening any more.

“She’s not killing herself either!”

“Sacrifice does not necessarily mean death.” Pua is getting frustrated now, though she is sitting on it well. Do I have anything I could give up that’s even worth even a dozen lives? Never mind the hundreds to make even the least version of this ritual work? I look down at my hands resting on my abdomen. An idea tickles at the back of my mind, just out of reach, maybe... My stomach grumbles and I flinch slightly, losing my train of thought.

Oh well, food is probably a good idea. If it’s good, the idea will come back to me.

“Hey.” I call trying to get their attention.

They don’t appear to hear me though, “Oh what else could it be? That seems to be the only thing you people care about, death and power!” Oh, she’s going to regret saying that when she’s thinking clearly again.

“Hey!” I try louder, but Sarah has gotten her wish and finally cracked Pua’s calm.

“Do not put me and Ericka in the same category as...”

“HEY!” Everybody snaps around to look at me, looking even more pissed than they had before I interrupted them. That vanishes when my stomach rumbles again. I also feel... empty in an odd way that I don’t like, and haven’t felt before.

“Right.” Pua stands dusting off her sarong, “I’ll get something for you to eat.” She turns and strides out of the room, her back stiff with residual irritation.

I look up at Sarah, who seems ashamed of her outburst now that she isn’t caught up in the moment. She lets out a sigh and sits back down on the bed, “How are you feeling?”

I restrain from shrugging, “As long as I don’t move, or breath too hard, fine. If I do either of those I feel like I’m being torn in half.”

Sarah winces slightly, “What do you think about this ritual that Pua wants to do.” I take a moment to think about how to answer that. Apparently that moment is too long for Sarah though, “You’re not actually going to kill a few hundred people are you?”

That... actually hurts, “What? Of course not! You don’t really think that I...?”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” Sarah curls up slightly and puts her face in her hands, “This whole thing is just freaking me out. It’s just... You killed what, ten? Eleven, people?”

“Vampires. Their personhood is debatable.”

“It’s that debate that worries me.” Sarah says quietly, “If it’s a matter for debate, what else will you be able to talk yourself into? You’ve changed so much in just the last few months, never mind since you were that five year old girl that bounced into my jujitsu class. I can’t help but wonder what else has changed?”

Before I can really generate a reply she stands and heads for the door. Sarah pauses, her hand on the doorknob but doesn’t turn back to me when she speaks, “I’m glad that the idea of mass sacrifice still upsets you. I just... I liked that little girl that thought that gymnastics was the best idea ever. Don’t lose her.” She jerks the door open and slams it so hard behind her that it doesn’t latch and bounces back open, letting me see her rushing down the hallway.

I... really don’t know what to say to that.

###

When Pua comes back in she’s carrying a cup and looking a bit concerned, “Sarah just went running past me looking like she was in tears. Is everything alright?”

I flinch slightly at the idea that I’ve somehow reduced Sarah to crying. Again. “I... don’t really know.” I admit, “The idea of us killing a few hundred people for this ritual really bothers her.” After a moment I keep going, “The idea that she thinks I might actually do that bothers me.”

Pua sighs and sets the cup on the bedside table and helps me sit up. And by help I mean that she warns me not to put any effort into moving myself and lifts me into a sitting position. She’s stronger than I would have believed for such a tiny person, even having been a tiny person until very recently.

Once I’m upright-ish, she picks up the cup again, sits on my bed, and puts it to my lips, “Sip this. It’ll feel odd right at first.” I do as she instructs and the liquid, whatever it is, not only fills my stomach but that empty feeling I have as well. I quirk an eyebrow over the rim of the cup at her as I continue to sip. Pua smiles at me, “It’s life energy distilled into a liquid along with protein, vitamins, and all the calories you need. A meal in a cup essentially.”

“Where did you get the life energy?” I ask between sips, “Chickens?” I smirk at her.

“Of course. I love Hawaii, killing chickens is my civic duty.” The now smaller woman smiles and sets the cup aside and puts on what I think of as her ‘therapist face’, “You do know that you adapted to the supernatural unusually quickly right? Even taking into account your unusual maturity, given your reincarnation, and your fore knowledge about what you were getting into, you accepted the more violent nature of our world with remarkable ease. Most people would have problems with that, much like Sarah is. Give her time, she’ll adjust with more understanding and the time to actually think about things.”

“What about me then?” I hate how small my voice sounds.

Pua raises an eyebrow, “What about you? You’re doing fine. Just remember where your lines are. And make sure they are your lines. Things not natural to yourself will be much harder to keep to. Just make sure that you are happy with yourself. Everything else should be secondary.”

I nod slowly mulling that over. I don’t know what my lines should be, I’ve been so busy trying to get basic survivability that I haven’t given much thought to the abstract. Maybe now, so close to attaining my first goals, I should?

“You don’t have to work it all out right now.” Pua says, breaking me out of my thoughts, “You have time, and it isn’t something that should be rushed. Get some sleep for now, you’re still healing.”

I nod, Pua always gives good advice. And sleep does sound pretty good.

Yeah, everything else can wait until tomorrow.

###

Pua shows up minutes after I wake with another cup of tasty tasty chicken life. Once I’ve finished she gives me a checkup, “Well good news, your bruising is finally fading, which means your regeneration is finally catching up with the mess your insides turned into. How are you feeling?”

“I’m... Pretty much the same, I don’t move, everything is fine. I’m getting really tired of not moving though. I don’t think I’ve held still this long ever, and it's driving me nuts.”

“I’m not surprised.” Pua says with a small smile. Outside the door I can hear a familiar set of footsteps and Sarah’s scent grows stronger, “So on that note, any thoughts about how to approach the ritual I proposed? Or any other ideas? I’ll take those too.”

Sarah stops outside the door, her breath catching as she gets within normal earshot, “Well... I start out slowly. As I understand this from what little you said about more abstract sacrificial rituals last time I was here, the more connected things are the better the ritual will work. We could burn a hundred dryad trees and use that as a sacrifice to make a bunch of gold or something. That sacrifice would work better if we used it to revitalize a field that had been sowed with salt though. Right?”

Pua nods, “I’ve never heard of a gold making ritual, that’s usually more of an alchemy thing, but you have the basics.”

“So wouldn’t a large part of picking a sacrifice be knowing what we’re trying to accomplish?” Sarah is still listening in, but given her earlier fears I’m inclined to let her, “Aside from fixing me I mean.”

“Well... What you need is a way for everything you take in the future to settle as well as possible. As though they were natural to you. Luck?” Pua offers.

I grimace, “I’d rather not rely on luck. No matter how good, luck always runs out.” How would I describe what I want if I were writing it in Script? There has to be a way for everything I’ve collected and more to fit. Plenty of critters have more powers than I do coexisting in the same soul and body, so it’s possible. It just hasn’t... fallen out that way for me. Is that what I need? To have what I take always settle the right way?

I can describe it better.

Probabilities?

No, that sounds too much like luck.

God, this is going to be frustrating. And if Pua does the ritual with local magic, how would it hold up between worlds? I guess it’s always possible that I’ll only go to worlds where magic is a thing, but I’d rather not depend on that...

Maybe that’s the answer. Many worlds, an infinite number of possible futures, ways things could be. One of which is the way everything fits together perfectly in my soul. I just need to guarantee that I always get that one.

So I need to sacrifice many possible futures to let me always get the best one, and we’re back to lots of human sacrifices. We could use animals or something, but futures of similar magnitude would be needed to get any kind of usable result. Where can I get that many human scale possibilities that wouldn’t turn me into the mass murderer Sarah is afraid I’ll become?

I look at my hands again, still folded on my stomach.

That... is an idea. One that initially seems like a great idea, which makes me cautious. To buy myself time to think I explain my idea for what to ask for to Pua.

The clever Kahuna narrows her eyes at me in suspicion. No doubt she can tell that there’s something else on my mind that I’m not bringing up just yet, but she lets it be and considers what I said.

“It should work for what we want... But you’ll need one hell of a trade.” Pua points out and flicks her eyes at the door behind which Sarah is still hiding and listening.

Of course Pua knows she’s there too.

I sigh, there’s no real reason to hold back the idea, I just...

I’d have shaken my head to clear it, if that wouldn’t have probably broken my neck or something... All I’m doing is stalling, “My ability to have children.”

There’s silence. Sarah speaks first, destroying whatever cover she might have thought she had, “What?”

Pu and I stare at the door at the outburst. There’s silence for several moments, then the door to the room creaks open showing a slightly red faced Sarah. She takes in both my and Pua’s unsurprised faces and huffs, “You both knew I was there, didn’t you?”

“Bloodhound’s sense of smell and bat’s hearing.” I point out.

At the same time Pua says, “Kahuna.” Like somebody else might have said ‘pirate’.

...Has that movie come out yet? I really haven’t been paying attention to popular culture.

Sarah rolls her eyes, and plants her fists on her hips, “Very funny. Now explain.”

“I sacrifice my ability to have children, all the potential lives and futures I could make. In return I get the best possible potential future every time for the integration of all future traits.” I glance at Pua to see if she thinks this will work. I hope it does, but there’s still some hesitation in me. I’ve never wanted kids, don’t like most of them, but there is some small part of me that hopes the sacrifice won’t be valid, so I won’t have to go through with it.

Probably a good thing really, would make it a better sacrifice.

That doesn’t make me feel any better about it though, which I suppose is the point.

Pua nods slowly, “‘Potential lives and futures’ would be better. That is certainly a great sacrifice... and a narrow enough gain to produce some spectacular results with that much given.”

“Ericka, are you sure you want to give that up?” Sarah’s looking a little shell shocked, and a lot worried, “It’s possible to have kids without a guy involved with modern science, probably has been for even longer with all this magic around.” Pua nods in the background, we ignored her, “You’re even good with kids, when you let yourself be. You’re still talking to that girl from the Vatican, aren't you?”

“Yeah and Asia’s great, but she’s an exception, not the rule. Look if I ever change my mind there are other ways to get kids than just popping one out myself.” I shudder involuntarily at the idea, “I can adopt, there are even blood rituals that can make an adoptee genetically mine. I’m just... giving up on periods. We can make sure that’s part of it right?” I ask Pua.

Sarah also looks over at the Kahuna, “Is she right?” she demands.

Pua nods to both of us, “Yes she is, and I’m sure we can.”

My oldest friend stares at me for a long moment, then sighs, “Try to get some rest, Ericka. Just, make sure you don’t regret what you do.” That’s about as close to approval as I’m likely to get.

“I won’t.” I assure Sarah as she steps through the bedroom door, leaving me and Pua alone in the room.

“You know depending on how firmly this sets, and how things are laid out, you might not even be able to adopt in the future.” Pua points out.

I grimace, “I figured it could work out that way, given my luck. Still what choice do I have?” I look up at Pua without moving my head, mentally begging her to give me a better option.

I’m destined for disappointment, “I can’t really think of anything better off the top of my head. I’ll look... but my gut says you’ve hit on the best option we have.” Pua admits sadly. I wasn’t really expecting anything else, so it doesn’t upset me too badly.

Pua stands to leave and has almost made it to the door when something occurs to me, “Hey Pua, did you use my transit Script to get to L.A. and me and Sarah back?” She looks over her shoulder and nods curiously, “How did you get that to work? I didn’t leave an outgoing Script here?”

Pua smirks and shrugs, “My reputation is well deserved.” With that she leaves, and I settle in for another nap.

###

Pua starts on the ritual almost immediately, and is kind enough to do most of the work on it in my room, so I can see what goes into this very different kind of sacrificial ritual. Mine sre pretty basic and straightforward, death for energy to get something that’s solidly already there. What we’re going to try now was far more conceptual in nature.

It’s also untestable, as it’s crafted for me and my specific situation. Pua assures me that I have nothing to worry about. I worry anyway, but I’m also mostly successful at distracting myself with the mechanics of what we’re doing. Like every time I watch Pua work, I learn a lot, and get even more ideas. Things it would probably take me decades to figure out how to do.

The time of year, phase of the moon, positions of specific stars. What kind of tide (a phosphorescent one for best results) and a million other things go into the incredibly complex symbology and invocation she’s crafting. There are so many variables that it makes my head spin.

During the first few days of work Sarah hovers over me, but after the third I call Ku and have him drag her out. She’s in Hawaii, and already skipping classes for this, she should at least enjoy herself. So she spends most of her days out on the beach, or exploring the village, and comes back at night to regale me with what she’s seen and done. Given the amount of time she spends with and talking about Ku, I have some hope that she might get more than just a vacation out of this. After all if Pua can make my Scripts work it isn’t like Hawaii to L.A. is much of a commute.

In the second week of work I finally asked the question that has been bugging me since I came up with this idea, “Pua, if we do this in your magic how do we know it will keep working wherever I end up next?”

“Because after I’m done crafting this, we will translate it into Script.” Pua answeres without looking up from where she’s measuring the geometry of the beach where she intends to hold the ritual.

“...And how do we know that Script will work wherever I end up next?”

Pua stops and looks at me carefully, “You actually don’t know what you’ve been working with do you?”

I blink, “Um... I guess not?”

“What you call World Script is the language by which reality defines itself.” Pua explains in what I call her lecturing tone, “The reason there are so few people that work with Script directly is partially because it’s difficult to use, and not really useful for blowing things up. Another part though, is that of the people in the know about what Script is, there are few that are willing to play with the source code of the universe. You were planning on using Script to leave right?” I nod stunned. Source code of the universe? Is that what I’d been playing with? Fuck! And how did devil’s get plugged into it? Pua continues, so I put away these thoughts to go over later, “While other universes that use a different... dialect for lack of a better term probably exist, I doubt that Script could take you to a world where it doesn’t work. So relax. Or if you can’t manage that, be very specific on how you define your destination when you leave.”

That seems like a really good idea.

###

Turns out that making a grand ritual from scratch takes time. Normally from what I’m told it takes anywhere from a year to decades to craft. Then however long you have to wait for everything to line up properly to actually perform it. Suffice it to say there’s a reason a grand ritual actually being performed is a big deal.

Pua put one together in a month. Not only that but she decides when we’ll perform the ritual, then crafts it to work perfectly at that time. It’s equal parts encyclopedic knowledge of everything that could possibly affect a ritual, and sheer ungodly talent.

It takes another two months for us to translate her casual feat of genius into Script. It’s an exercise in the use of Script that’s new to me. As opposed to just trying to achieve an effect, we’re trying to use Script to imitate the precise manner in which Pua’s ritual would achieve the effect. On one hand that’s good, I have some idea of how to begin to do this directly with Script, but it will take a lot of work before I’d be willing to try it on myself. On the other hand getting Script to imitate more conventional magic, while still altering things on the level that Script did... It’s a feat of brain bending that sends me to sleep with a headache more nights than not.

Still it’s three months during which I can barely turn my head, and certainly can’t get out of bed. Sarah has to go back to school after two weeks, her parents are still paying her way contingent on her grades, so she can’t just vanish for too long. She promises to be back for the ritual though. She still isn’t entirely certain I won’t regret what I’m giving up, but she’s trying to be supportive anyway. Ku volunteers to take her back to L.A. and pick her up when the time comes for her to return.

My twenty-first birthday comes and goes while I’m confined to a bed. Very little drinking is done.

My one outlet aside from Pua, Thea, and Ku, is Asia. I can actually safely move my fingers enough to type so I spend a lot more time on emails to her than I have previously. It takes some work to convince her that what’s wrong with me isn’t something she can help with. Then even longer to assure her that doesn’t mean she’s done anything wrong, and it’s in no way her fault. But the whole process is worth it.

Asia is a sweet girl and I like her a lot, though how she looks in the pictures she sends me made me worry that caon is coming very soon. I might have overreacted just a bit reminding her that she can always talk to me, and come to me for anything. She starts asking what’s wrong again. Still it’s nice talking to her more.

So by the time everything is done and ready, I’m beginning to go more than a little stir crazy. I can actually feel my muscles itching. I can’t even fidget without hurting myself. It’s a special kind of hell.

So when Ku comes to carry me down to the beach, I almost kissed him. Which is why he’s a good choice beyond being able to carry me, if Pua came I probably would have kissed her. And that would have made Thea sad, which I don’t really want. Thea’s nice. She actually made and helped me eat things besides chicken life nutrient soup.

That’s all behind me now as Ku picks me up princess style, very gently, and carries me out of the house. It’s night outside, the sky is clear and the stars are bright. The sound of gentle waves fill the air, and as we come around the Ali’i’s house in sight of the beach the sight takes my breath away.

The waves are glowing a gentle phosphorescent blue, providing a backdrop to the beach itself. In front of us a large section of the beach has been flattened, smoothed, and wetted. On the smoothed space the Script has been written out in the wet sand. The grooves of the Script are filled with some potion to help conduct the energy that will be required for a working of this magnitude. Around the edges of the flattened area are torches providing light to the whole scene.

What shocked me though, is the entire village has turned out for the ritual. Children are running about carrying messages from place to place. Older children and younger teenagers are comparing the Script drawn out in the sand against pieces of paper they all carry. Adults manage what looks like a buffet table off to the side, keeping those working hydrated and fed. Finally around Pua stand a number of people, all of whom I recognize from my time in the village, and at least a few of which I know are accomplished singers.

“What? Why...?” Is all I manage to get out.

Ku chuckles, “You lived with us for a year and a half. Why are you surprised?” He shrugs, “Now come on. I’m tired of you doing nothing but taking up the guest bed in my sister’s house.”

Why am I surprised? Because I haven’t really done anything beyond following Pua around and finding things to do when I wasn’t? Sure after a while the villagers got used to me and started asking me questions they normally asked Pua. I answered them as best I could, and pointed them in the right direction, usually at Pua, when I couldn’t. I guess I also spent some time when I was waiting on Ku to be free helping out some of the kids with the basics of how to fight. I also told them about the future...

Huh, it sounds different when I lay it all out like that.

I am a little shocked really, I mean, I did all those things mostly to pass the time or learn more. Apparently the Ke’Kua’Okolani see it as something different. I can’t really object to that, but do they know that sometime soon I’m going to leave? Am I going to be letting them down by vanishing?

My train of thought is broken as my ass hits wet sand. Ku has carried me out onto the beach, and set me down in my place in the Script circle. The teens are clearing away from the circle, and the singers are taking their places.

“Are you ready Ericka?” Pua calls from her place leading the ritual. Slowly and very carefully I raise a single trembling hand, and give a thumbs up before setting my arm back down at my side. I actually manage it with only a few twinges, “All right then. Let’s get started.”

I’ve never really been the subject of one of my own Script rituals before. Sure there’s my tattoos, and those are technically a hung ritual. But those really only affected me for a moment or two right at the end. The rest of everything that happens is pointed somewhere else.

I’m honestly not sure what to expect.

The moment they begin, everything goes quiet. The sound of the waves vanishes, no sound of birds, trees, or the audience. I can’t even hear them singing the Script. All I can hear is my own heartbeat and my breathing.

Laid out on my back like I am, I have a great view of the night sky. The village turned off all it’s lights, so the light pollution is at a minimum. The sky seems to expand, consuming the world around me until it feels like I’m floating surrounded by nothing but stars.

Everything is so still, I’m not sure time is passing. Something... immense turns its attention to me. I can’t see, or perceive anything, but that feeling that something is watching me is almost overwhelming. It... He... felt concerned? Curious. Both. He knows what I’m offering, what I want, and is asking me if I’m sure.

He knows what I’ll say, but is asking anyway.

Of course I’m sure. I had plenty of time to think, to change my mind, find another option. This is what I've decided. Besides it’s not like I can have a kid in my current state anyway.

The presence acknowledges my choice and then... gets out of the way. Time resumes and I can feel myself being rewritten. The Script that makes me up is altered, changed. Everything I’ve taken in is adjusted, fitted. Slotted together to not only not clash, but actually support each other. And from now on that’s the only way they could be.

At the same time the ability to have children is... written out of me. All the possible futures where I could have created life are consumed by the ritual. I do note that Pua followed through on her promise and I won’t have periods anymore either.

Everything settles and I blink...

Groaning in the circle I feel like I’ve just woken up, like the world has skipped or something, “Did it work?” Something happened, though what...

“Everything looked good from the outside.” Pua says, “There’s really only one way to be sure though.”

Right. Out of habit I didn't move a muscle when I... came to I guess. Now though, carefully, I plant a hand on the sand, and slowly push myself up. Then roll to my feet. Then bounce on my toes. Then do a full front flip into a full back flip.

“I’d say that worked then.” Pua say with a smile. I can’t help grinning as well. A moment later I’m nearly tackled to the ground by Sarah happily babbling and trying to pick me up as she always used to.

I pick her up instead.

My smile turned a little savage, I have power and will get more. I have skills that will only grow. The only thing that I need now to feel like I’m ready to actually get out in the world is a weapon that will grow with me.

Luckily I have a few favors that will hopefully help me get one.


	13. Book 1 - Lessons

The rest of that night after the ritual is something of a celebration. After Pua holds me down and triple checks that nothing has gone wrong. That I haven’t tripped into some new unforeseen problem, I think she takes that she didn’t see the soul tangling coming personally, I’m released to enjoy the party.

Pulled pork, sweet bread, and a dozen other things made up the food offerings. There’s music and dancing, and I actually get involved for a change. My recent brush with unexpected metaphysical doom left me more introspective than I would normally be. So I decide to give in to Sarah’s urging and actually socialize for a change.

So I danced and flirted awkwardly with pretty village girls. I can safely say I can see the appeal.

I didn’t do more than dance though.

Morning finds me waking up in the same bed I’ve spent the last three months in, this time though I wake feeling great. I slept well, not waking up a dozen times during the night from the pain of trying rolling over.

I go through my morning exercises, noting that I’ll either need a new routine or some other way to make this one harder, and start packing. My body and soul are working again, and would continue to, and it’s time to get back to work. Canon is right around the corner, and for the first time I think I might actually be minimally ready for it when it happens.

I take a few moments to write an email to Asia telling her that I’m much better, and that the problem has been fixed. She’s been worrying enough, I’d have felt terrible if I waited too long. I send one off to Cait as well. She worries about me too but, both as a Sidhe and as someone with more knowledge about what’s going on, was more laid back about it. Of course I also ask some pointed questions, and call in the favors she said she owes me from my encounter with the Sidhe in Briton.

Then it’s down stairs, I plan on a quick breakfast and then using a transit Script to head back to the mainland.

That plan dies the moment I enter the kitchen. Pua, Ku, and Sarah are waiting for me when I step in, all sitting around the table waiting for me. Behind them I see Thea, who glances at me, mouths ‘good luck’ and leaves.

Well, that’s ominous.

“Um... Good morning?” Nobody responds, “Ah... I was just going to tell you that I was going to be heading back to the mainland...”

“Sit!” Pua barks and my legs almost give out underneath me in my haste to comply. I manage to make it to the chair though.

“Is... this an intervention?” I’m trying to be funny but I sound more hesitant than anything else.

“Yes.” Sarah says flatly, and I flinch.

“Ericka,” Pua’s voice was much gentler now that she isn’t keeping me from bolting, “We understand you feel you’re under a lot of pressure. And recent events have legitimately required you to move quickly. However that’s no longer true, and even in a rush only so much recklessness can be excused. Now that you aren’t rushing to solve problems, you can take the time to do things right.”

“I’m not...” I try again only to be interrupted by Ku.

“How were you planning to feed your vampiric nature?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Um...” My first instinct is to say that I’ll just keep killing things. A glance at Sarah though reminds me of her fear that I’ll become some sort of mass murder, so that can’t be the answer. I’m not sure I really have another one. I’m not going to keep making Pua distill life energy for me, and I doubt chickens have enough life energy without Pua’s help to keep me going.

“What were you planning to do next?” Pua asks in the tone of somebody proving a point.

“Uh... I’m going to use a few favors Cait owes me to see if she can put me in touch with a really good fae smith to get arms and armor.”

“At least she thought of armor.” Ku murmurs.

“What were you planning to pay the smith with?” Pua continues.

“Uh... I don’t know. I figure that could be negotiated. Once I knew what they wanted.” I know even as I say it, it isn’t a great plan.

“And you were planning to ask me for help with that, right? Seeing as it is part of my job to negotiate with ancient supernatural powers and get the better of Faustian deals?” The Kahuna continues inexorably.

“Ah...” All of them frown at my hesitation, “I didn’t want to ask for more? You’ve already helped me a lot, and I figured I’d used up what favor I got from you for the help I’ve already given.”

Pua stands, calmly leans across the table, and smacks me upside the head, then sits down again looking at me expectantly. I’m getting really tired of people hitting me in the head, “Pua would you help me negotiate with whatever fae Cait finds for me?” I scowl at her and rub my head where she smacked me.

“Of course!” Pua says happily, “Don’t worry, you’ll pay us back in the future for it.” She drops the cheer and leans forward to put a hand on mine, “We’re worried about you, and how casually you've been risking yourself. So here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to help you get a handle on your powers, Ku is going to teach you how to handle your new physical capabilities and some other useful things, and until we’re satisfied you’re not leaving.”

I scowl harder. I’m twenty one dammit. I do not like the idea of people controlling me, and this is starting to set me off. It isn’t mind control, but it certainly looks like the curtailing of my choices, “Don’t I get a say in this?” I demand flatly.

“No.” Sarah replies just as flatly. My teeth grit and I’m about to start yelling at them when Sarah scoots her chair next to me and hugs me tightly, “I know you’re going to leave as soon as you can, but please take care of yourself so that you only leave when you’re ready.” Not because you're dead.

She doesn’t say it but I hear it anyway. I slump in my chair, “Fine.”

God dammit, Sarah.

###

Ku gets me first and starts immediately after breakfast, while Pua heads to the beach muttering something about people panicking thinking that there are sharks inside the reef. To my surprise, instead of dragging me down to the beach where most of our fighting practice happens, Ku takes me inland to a grove of Koa trees and sits me down.

“The first thing we need to do is take care of your feeding problem.” Ku explains, “Otherwise practicing is going to be very hard for you. You can’t really work on something if you collapse in exhaustion after a few hours. You also need to know how long you can go on one tank of gas so to speak. Before any of that though you need to be able to feed yourself.”

I make a face at the phrasing, but I can’t really argue that it’s been Pua feeding me thus far, and I can’t really do it myself. So I nod, “I assume you have a solution?”

“I’m going to teach you something that we call Mana Breathing. It’s a technique that’s been developed in a lot of places under various names. Cultivation, Bodhisattva Enlightenment, Senjutsu, all are names for pretty much the same thing.” Ku explains sitting cross legged in front of me.

I frown, I’ve looked into Senjutsu briefly before during my frantic scramble to keep from starving. I tossed it out because it looks remarkably like what I had tried to do for the first several years of my life and failed at, and because I’m not sure I’ll be able to use it everywhere I go in the future, “Doesn’t that draw on some sort of field of ‘natural universal energy’?” I ask doubtfully.

“It’s not the Force.” Ku dead pans, “Mana is an interesting word in Hawaiian. Before fantasy authors co-opted it to mean ‘magic’ generically, it meant... there’s no really good English translation. Power, sort of. Everything has mana, it’s what you take from food to nourish you, it’s what parents try to gather throughout their lives and leave to their children so that each generation is greater than the last. Among many other things it’s life.”

My eyes widen as I listen. Mana sounds a lot like life energy, “And Mana Breathing is...?”

“The art of taking in the mana of the world around you, and controlling your own mana.” Ku says with a smile that’s more than a little smug. Bastard.

“So how do we start.” I’m a little eager now.

“Fortunately for you, meditation.”

###

After a few hours of meditation, I learn that feeling the mana around me is easy. The only reason I’ve never pulled it off before is because I was metaphorically looking in the wrong direction. That’s embarrassing. I haven’t managed to do anything else with it yet, but finding the mana isn’t hard.

Ku then starts helping me get used to my new capabilities, by beating the crap out of me until lunch. We broke an hour before it’s time to eat and he helps me rework my exercises so I can continue to get some benefit out of them.

Lunch is quiet, I’m exhausted already and slightly depressed about how close I’d been to a much simpler solution to my power problems that I just walked right past. I have a sneaking suspicion that Pua isn’t going to make things any better.

Pua has two tasks for me to begin with.

The first is to run an analysis Script on myself and go through it with a fine toothed comb. Honestly I don’t learn a lot, but what I do learn is good to know. My muscles and bones are made of the same stuff that troll’s are. Some sort of advanced carbon allotrope, that I’d need a degree in molecular engineering or something to really make sense of. They consume a lot of energy and with the life energy fuel they are getting now they’re actually working as well as they can.

My voice box is a complex structure with a range that I can barely hear the top end, and can’t hear the bottom end of. In addition, with the more supernatural aspects now receiving power from my vampire energy network, I’m capable of all sorts of sound feats, that I have no idea how to perform. Matching resonance frequencies, sonic impactors, focused sound beams that can cause anything from the feeling of burning, to just punching a hole in whatever it’s aimed at. The mesmerism works almost like The Voice from Dune. Some general influence is possible from just sound and intent, but the really impressive things will require me to tune into an individual's specific... frequency isn’t really the right word, but it’s as close as I’m going to get. Unfortunately, knowing what that frequency is, is something that Sirens apparently have some apparatus to figure out instinctively. I do not. So while most sound tricks I’ll be able to figure out with time and training, more than the basic mesmerism will probably be beyond me unless I go hunting for Sirens again. Assuming instinct is something I can steal at all, I haven’t actually tried that. Not that it’s something I really want to do in either case.

The vampire stuff is really very straight forward. I have a network that pumps life energy around my body to saturate, and power everything attached to it. Which is great. On the other hand, while I have the network I still only have about as much life energy production as a normal very in shape person. Nothing is improved, yet, and I have a very limited amount of power to work with. Sadly the only solution to that will be time. I’ll be able to hold more as I use and stretch my network, but until then I’ll have to budget power carefully.

The best thing I learn is what I had taken from the Sidhe. After looking over my analysis and going over the knife I used a dozen times, I finally figure out what happened and what I’d taken. The knife receiving no direct input from me about what to take, took whatever power he was using at the time. In this case I had acquired the Tuatha De Denan glamor. Which is awesome. The only downside is that it’s a power hog of truly spectacular magnitude. How long I can keep something up will probably depend on the size and complexity of the illusion, but I can’t imagine keeping it up for more than five minutes. At best. If I’m lucky. I’m probably being optimistic.

The second thing Pua wants me to do is to socialize.

I can’t quite believe it when she says it, “Why?”

“First because it’s healthy. Humans aren’t made for isolation, even if it’s just social. So as your friend, and your Kahuna, I’m making you interact with people as a stabilizing influence.” She leads me out of her house where I’ve been reading the results of my analysis, “Second, even if you don’t intend to socialize here, you will probably want to at some point. Your life will be easier if you learn how to deal with people now.”

“You do remember that I lived an entire life before this one don’t you?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“And how much do you remember of your last life?” I open my mouth to answer, then slowly close it, frowning. Pua has mercy on me and keeps going, “Third, the more connections you have to people and the world around you, the less likely you are to just jump into things without thinking.” She glares at me slightly, I just roll my eyes back at her. Pua stops at the edge of one of the open grassy areas of the village that are used like parks.

“Pua, where are we going?” I sigh.

“Here. I’ve volunteered you to look after the village kids twice a week for a few hours.” She waves a hand at the field.

Slowly I turn my head to look at the grassy expanse and find it populated by children, aged between eight and thirteen, moving about in an approximate mush, “Pua.” I mutter trying not to be overheard by the swarm in front of me. It feels a little like staring down the pixies again, “Pua!” I say a little louder when I get no response, “Pua!” I finally look over, and find that Pua has snuck and left me here!

That bitch.

I turn back to the field.

Okay.

I can do this.

Just remember, they can smell fear.

I need some way to keep them focused, and more importantly here. If they start running around the village I’ll never find them all. So I need to keep them interested and engaged.

What did I like at that age?

I’m not sure I ever was that age in this life... but I do remember the first time I went to gymnastics and saw the older girls practicing. It was enthralling to watch them move and spin, fly through the air as though gravity was a mere suggestion.

That was the first time I really wanted to be a good gymnast. Before that I was determined to take the classes just enough to get my body to do what I wanted it to, and have a safe way to build balanced muscle. Afterwards though I wanted that freedom. Both physically, the ability to move however and over anything I want, and after I really started there was a kind of freedom in the total focus required.

For a little while I wasn’t rushing to out pace some on coming supernatural disaster, and I didn’t feel more pressure afterwards because my escape was still helping.

But most of all I remember seeing the older girl doing her routine and being enthralled.

I can work with that.

The kids are everywhere but for the moment still sort of central to the park. I aim myself just past the edge of the swarm, and start with a short run up. I really hope that my new strength won’t screw this up too much. I start with a series of handsprings, using as little force as possible, and still go through them faster than I ever have before. It’s one of the most intense series of tumbles I’ve ever done. Each action being recalculated on the fly to not be too forceful, and to adjust to avoid disaster when I am anyway, or I’m not forceful enough. I actually get enough air on a front flip to rotate all the way through twice before landing too far forward. I manage to save myself by going into what I think is a pretty smooth forward roll.

I finish my impromptu floor routine as we’d been taught, legs together arms flung high. Sticking the landing is so much easier with cat balance and reflexes and troll’s strength. The extra height is more than a little awkward though. It messes with me more than the extra strength honestly. I turn to look at the Swarm to find them all staring at me wide eyed and open mouthed.

I wink at them with a smile, “Who wants to learn how to do that?”

The cacophony of positive responses turns my smile into a grin.

Victory is mine.

###

It isn’t until a couple of hours later that I get the full scope of Pua’s evil plan to socialize me. Because that’s when the kids get picked up. Parents, older siblings, they all want to talk to me. Some of them actually try hitting on me, fortunately only women. Some one, Pua, must have let my sexuality be quietly known. I eventually decide to be grateful for it as nobody gives me a hard time. Which really shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does given Pua. I still have to deal with kids and adults in a friendly fashion twice a week.

Well played Kahuna, well played.

That establishes my pattern for the next several weeks. Mornings with Ku, afternoons with Pua when she has time, apparently the shark problem is more serious than she first assumed, and twice a week I’m socialized.

Ku guides me through meditative exercises to gain control of my own life energy and to reach out to the mana of the world around us.

Manipulating my internal mana is something that I’m slowly getting a handle on in the most crude sense. I can make the energy circulate faster or slower, and I’m starting to be able to pull it away from things that I’m not using, like my voice. I’m not there yet but this sort of manipulation is coming easily if slowly. The techniques that most use to boost themselves don’t really work for me though. The channels of the vampiric network are too rigid to be adjusted the way the more free form flows that other users have are. And for some reason I can’t reach outside myself to draw mana in for the life of me.

I can feel it there, Pua has checked me over and there’s no physical or metaphysical reason for my difficulty. The conclusion that Pua and Ku have reached is that I have some sort of mental block.

Which is a rather large problem.

So I do what I always do when I run into a problem. I write a Script for it. The idea is to create a zone of increased mana pressure around myself. Not too high a pressure, just enough so that I won’t have to reach out to get it, I can just let it in, and the pressure will force the mana into me. With the right amount of pressure and a way to open myself to the energy it should work out fine.

I make a note that as soon as I have the free time to get started on that. I’m planning out what the Script will look like in my head when I remember that I don’t have to do this on my own. I have two people who, in theory, know what they are doing with Mana Breathing, and can probably tell me if this is a good idea or not.

I hesitate.

Normally I would proceed on my own best judgement, and deal with the problems as they come up. Now though... I’ll continue to work on the Script and show it to Pua and Ku when I actually have something to show. I don’t even know if this is possible or not just yet. Better to have something solid before bringing it up.

After meditation and beatings with Ku, I’m given over to Pua.

What we can do is limited while I’m dependent on her alchemical chicken life. It’s enough to keep me going but it isn’t the most efficient medium for absorbing energy. Still we learn a few things.

Most importantly, the glamor is the next best thing to useless. Tuatha De Denan glamors are some of the best illusions in the world. They can account for sight, touch, hearing, everything including supernatural senses. There are stories of faerie lords making entire cities complete with populations that people lived in for years, without ever knowing that what was around them wasn’t real.

The problem comes in with the amount of detail that one has to keep track of in order to make even the most basic of illusions. Fae brains are built to keep track of all of that.

Mine isn’t.

We start with me trying to make an apple, just the image, with an apple there in front of me for reference. I start with a red sphere and try to add details one at a time. Whatever I’m focused on at the moment looks good, everything else basically vanishes. I give it shape, then try for the shine on the apple skin, which makes the shape vanish. Then I try to give it texture, which means the shine vanishes, and so on. The glamor ability is literally too powerful and versatile for me to use, I physically can’t focus on enough things at once to make it work. Which doesn’t even get into how much lower fidelity a human’s imagination is compared to a fae’s.

Trying to do the image all at once is almost worse. It’s like seeing an apple in a dream, as in you have to be in an altered state of consciousness for it to be at all believable.

However there is one illusion that I manage almost perfectly right off the bat. The illusion of my absence. For whatever reason the concept, ‘I’m not here’ is easy to hold in mind and it’s impressive as hell. I can’t be seen, heard, touched, which isn’t to say I became incorporeal. People just won’t notice or feel anything if they touch me. Even supernatural senses won’t pick up anything. The only real problem with it is how much power it takes. With my current life energy I can keep it up for thirty seconds. Maybe a minute if I’m not doing anything else.

It isn’t as useful as it could be, but I’ll take it. After all, just like everything else hooked up to my vampiric mana network it’ll only improve with time.

###

It’s almost a month later that I’m working with Pua when one of the village men bursts into her house and into the room where we’re working on my ability to reach outside of myself. He’s breathless, pale, and gasping for air. Which is impressive because there isn’t anybody in the village who isn’t in fantastic shape. Ku makes sure of it as most of the adults have at least some combat training under him. The stench of terror is what really gets my attention though.

“Kahuna!” He manages to get out with his first steps into the room, “So-Something... at the... at the parking lot...” He fights to get words out through his gasping, “asking for...” He gestures at me, unable to get any more words out as he tries to breath.

“Something?” Pua asks, demands, her voice full of tension. I glance over at her, her face is in her professional mask, nothing but comforting certainty. I can smell how worried she is though. Something that only gets worse as the man’s only reply is to pale and nod.

We glance at each other and head for the parking lot at a fast walk. Pua in the lead and I follow just behind her, to back her up. I hope somebody is getting Ku as well, I don’t like my chances against anything that can just stroll past Pua’s protections.

When we reach the lot I almost attack on sight. Waiting for us is an impossibly beautiful woman, with midnight black hair pulled back into a simple ponytail, complemented by eyes the dark blue of deep water, and pale porcelain skin. Except for her lips which are blood red and set into a serious frown. It’s the kind of enthralling beauty that I’ve only seen once before, in what turned out to be a bog in England.

The woman is a fae, a Sidhe.

What stops me from immediately lunging for her are two things. The first is the sense for the mana around me I’ve gained with Mana Breathing. The Sidhe radiats power like a volcano radiates heat. It’s almost oppressive, and I have to remind myself that there’s actually no physical reason I should be having trouble breathing. That if I hadn’t been learning Mana Breathing, I never would have even noticed the power, and that the feeling of pressure is all in my head.

As if to drive home just out classed I’m here, she’s leaning against an old steel framed truck waiting for us. Showing not only no discomfort, but no awareness that she’s so close, and in fact touching, a great deal of iron. True it’s iron in steel, but for most fae that wouldn’t matter. Even greater fae would be weakened and harmed by steel if not nearly as much.

The other reason I hesitate though is because of what she’s wearing. It isn’t a fancy dress made of spiderwebs and dew or some such, it isn’t bright shining armor made of the silvery metal that the fae are known for. Instead she’s wearing work boots, jeans that look like they’ve seen a lot of hard use, a tank top, and denim jacket.

Her clothes, casual as they are, do nothing to reduce the noble and refined bearing of not just a Sidhe noble, but a Sidhe noble with power. Power that has nothing to do with her title or position.

As we approach she stands up from the truck to meet us. Pua and I both bow politely, mine deeper than hers, and the fae after studying us both for a moment nods to Pua in some form of acknowledgement.

Before Pua can ask any questions, the Sidhe Lady speaks, “I look for Ericka Rhostana.” She declares, her voice far from the bells or music I expect. Instead it rings like a hammer on an anvil, and carries the crushing weight of deep water.

I step forward, even with Pua where she grabs my wrist to keep me from advancing further. She doesn’t need to worry though. I’m not getting any closer to the Sidhe than I have to, and I’m certainly not going to leave the side of the nominal powerhouse on our side.

The Sidhe examines me again with greater interest than she had before. I feel her power wash over me, no doubt performing an examination that would leave me feeling violated if I had any idea how much information she got from it.

“I have come because Caitríona the Queen of Cats asked that I do so. I am Vivain, Lady of the Lake, and I am here to see if you might be worthy of one of my blades.”

Cait... What did you do?!


	14. Book 1 - Learned

Both Pua and I stare at the fae. Pua throws off her surprise faster than I do, which is good, because I have no idea what to say. The only Lady of the Lake I know of is the one that’s responsible for giving Arthur Excalibur, and this woman certainly doesn’t look like any of the depictions I’ve ever heard of her. Of course, a lot of those descriptions are nothing more than an arm sticking out of a lake holding a sword.

“So you wish to begin negotiations?” Pua asks carefully.

“You are mistaken.” Vivain says with a smile, as though she ran into this mistake a lot, “I have come to observe young Ericka. From these observations I will determine both if I am willing to give her a sword, and what sort of blade would most compliment her. Only once these have been determined will there be negotiations. As of this moment there is no obligation on either side.”

Both Pua and I let loose small sighs of relief and relax slightly, “Then would you accept hospitality?”

Behind us I hear the sound of somebody moving at a dead sprint towards us. Every so often the sounds would vanish for half a second only to reappear a large distance closer. I turn my head to see Ku arriving at a run with a broad bladed sword, it’s brief crosspiece and pommel almost the same width, and look a little odd. It’s the pattern on the steel that almost looks like wood grain that really stands out though.

At least until the mana rolling off the blade hits me.

We all freeze. Ku looks at his sister, then at me, and finally at the Sidhe standing examining him much like she examined Pua.

It’s the Sidhe that breaks the silence, “Is that Vili’s sword?” She sounds surprised and fascinated.

Ku glances down at the naked blade in his fist and slowly moves it behind himself. He looks like he’s trying to pretend it’s not there, “Um... yes. Pua?”

The Kahuna suppresses the giggles trying to escape with an iron will, and is mostly successful, “Hospitality?” The Lady of the Lake also looking faintly amused, nods, “Bread and salt.”

Ku blinks, “What?”

“Bread and salt brother dear. Now.”

“Oh...” Ku starts backing up, “I’ll just go get that then, shall I?”

Twenty minutes later all four of us have partaken of bread, salt, and water, and established hospitality. Which means we can all relax with some form of protection for everybody involved.

###

At first, not a lot changes. My schedule remains the same, mornings with Ku working on Mana Breathing, and then learning how to fight with my new body, and how to fight better in general. Though Ku does start spending more time on my swordsmanship.

In the afternoons I spend my time on my new powers, split evenly between illusions, on which I make no progress, and sound tricks, on which I make small progress. For example I do discover the resonance frequency for the bones in the human ear. Pua’s pretty upset with me when I stumbled on that one. Probably more than she otherwise would have been since my bones are troll bones now, so I escape unscathed.

Ku laughing at her can’t have helped either.

These sessions get less and less frequent though as whatever shark problem Pua has been watching has escalated. It’s gone past concerning and she’s spending more time trying to do something about it. I manage to use one of the days both she and Ku aren’t busy to show them the work I’ve done on the Mana Pressure Script.

I’m expecting them to have a long list of reasons why this is a terrible idea. I can certainly think of a litany of potential problems. So I’m surprised when they both agree it’s a pretty good idea. Ku starts teaching me how to open myself passively and Pua starts helping me to adjust the pressure my Script will produce. We’re trying to find the perfect balance between enough pressure to fill me up quickly and not so much that I damage myself.

Through all of this there’s Vivain, Lady of the Lake. Between one day and the next, a small forge appears by the stream that ran through the village right next to one of the fish ponds. She spends her nights there but otherwise spends all her time following me around. She watches me meditate and spar with Ku, sits in on my lessons with Pua, and looks over my shoulder when I work by myself. She even follows me to my enforced socializing time, which have turned into an intro to gymnastics class.

She examines my Scripts and asks permission to look at my analysis results. What really threw me though is when I turned around from adjusting my Mana Pressure Script and find her examining my prototype trait theft knives.

My iron prototype trait theft knives.

I’m reduced to staring, eyes wide and mouth opened. Leaning against a steel truck is one thing, but handling actual cold iron is just... “How?”

She glances up at me and smirks slightly, “I would be a poor smith if I could not handle iron.”

“Well... I guess... but,” I point at where she’s testing the edge of the knife against her thumb, “how?”

“It’s called being iron blooded. Sometimes one of us is born immune to iron’s touch. Much like on occasion a vampire is turned a daywalker, immune to their racial weakness. We are highly desired by other fae, often to our detriment. We tend to stick together because of this, the elder helping to protect and hide the younger until they have the power to protect themselves.” She explains putting one of the knives down, “You use a great deal of the World’s Script. Would it not be easier to have Pua enchant things for you?”

I shrug, processing the idea of iron blooded fae, and why I’ve never heard of them before, “Easier? Yes. Right now anyway, I don’t plan on staying in this universe any longer than I have to. Any equipment I plan on keeping will have to work anywhere I end up as well as here. And ideally work in the same way everywhere as well. Nobody I’ve talked to knows any way to do that aside from Script.”

“Truly.” She turns to look at me, “How do you plan to survive the Gap?”

“The what?” I have a horrible feeling I’ve forgotten something important.

“The Dimensional Gap.” Vivain raises an eyebrow, then sighs disappointed at my continued blank look, “The place between universes. The place you must traverse in order to accomplish your ambitions. Anything that enters there unprotected is immediately reduced to its base concepts, coming apart under the lack of physics. Something you may wish to address before you journey forth.”

I blink, then settle back down into my chair with a groan. Of course, I scrub my face in frustration. Of course that place is hostile, it doesn’t matter what you call it, the Blind Eternities, the Warp, or whatever the hell it is in Bleach, it’s always lethal without precautions. How the hell did I forget that?

“What will you do?” The Sidhe asks me, her face blank but her tone interested, “What will you do to solve this problem?”

I don’t think my first instinct, reaching for my Script dictionary, will help me here. If Script is, as Pua said, and I have no reason to doubt her, the source code of the universe, would it even work in a place that was defined as where the universe isn’t? I don’t think any kind of Script would help me here. Unfortunately I only had one other tool in my tool box, which was to find something that was unbothered by the Gap, kill it, and steal that immunity.

Only problem is, as far as I knew, the only thing that was native to the Gap was Ophis. Dragon god of Infinity and uncontested holder of the title of ‘most powerful thing in the world’.

Yeah, I really don’t think that trying to pick a fight with her is a great plan. It isn’t even a bad plan. It's a suicidal plan. It’s a dumb suicidal plan. Just no.

I have no real other ideas though, so for the moment...

I glance up at her with a sigh and shrug, “Right now? Nothing. One problem at a time. I’m nowhere near ready to try leaving, and have way too many other things on my plate. Which doesn’t even count what you’re going to charge me for my commission.”

Strangely that earns me a small smile and an approving nod. Not really sure why, but I’ll take it.

###

It takes me another two days to get the mana pressure tuned correctly for my Script. Or at least tuned closely enough for me to be willing to try it. With Ku or Pua watching of course. So the morning after I finish I grab the reference sheet for the new Script and head off to the field where I spend my mornings meditating and getting the shit beat out of me.

Ku really enjoys the fact he could do pretty much anything to me shy of breaking bones in practice and I’d be ready to go again the next day.

To my surprise I hear Pua there before I see either of the siblings, “...Kamohoali’i says they’re not his.”

I slow down to a walk to listen. Kamohoali’i, isn’t a word I’ve heard before. I wonder if it’s a name or a title?

“If they’re rogue sharks we’ll have to deal with them ourselves.” Ku points out as I come around the bend in the path to be able to see them, “At least if they’ve tasted blood already, they can’t have had much. They’d be attacking us already if they were too far gone.”

“I’ll try to figure out where we can pin them down on the beach. I know you can swim like a sea turtle but my Aumakua are more intellectual.” As I approach Pua turned to look at me over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised, “And don’t you know it's rude to eavesdrop?”

I shru, “You knew I was there and didn’t stop talking so I figure you didn’t mind. Besides if you really didn’t want to take the chance of my overhearing you’d be talking in Hawaiian. Or some other language that the two of you speak that I don’t, it’s not like you're lacking for choice. What’s an Aumakua?” I say the last word slowly to make sure I pronounce it correctly.

Pua grinned at me, agreeing with my reasoning with a nod, “An Aumakua is a guardian spirit. They can be animal spirits, ancestor ghosts, mo’o, or even gods. Mostly they just provide advice or spiritual protection, but sometimes they’ll teach their person some things.”

“My childhood Aumakua was the sea turtle.” Ku explains, “They taught me how to swim, I can hit twenty two mph in the water if I really work at it.” The big man shrugs and then moves on, “You’re a bit early, what’s up?”

I grin, I’m going to ask about Kamohoali’i as well, but I don’t really care about sharks that aren’t hurting anybody. If I need to know anything more about this, they’ll tell me. My new Script is far more exciting, “I think I’ve got the pressure Script ready to try!” I bounce on my toes, for a moment I’m distracted by the still unfamiliar movement on my chest, but I move past that easily, “I was hoping that we could give it a shot.” I hold out the paper to Pua who takes it, examining what I’ve written out carefully, “I know the pressure is still on the high side, but since it should be supercharging my regeneration while I’m using it I think I’ll heal the minimal damage faster than it’ll happen.”

“That will hurt you know.” Pua points out looking up at me.

I blink at her, “And?”

Ku leans back staring at the sky laughing as though he can’t quite believe what he just heard. Pua puts her face in her hands and groans.

I don't know what their problem is. A little temporary pain is well worth shaving fifteen minutes off my projected charge time. The difference between forty five minutes, and thirty could be huge.

“Fine.” Pua groans having finished despairing of me, “You two get a piece of particle board big enough for this, I’ll grab the bone chalk from my workshop.”

Ku, still laughing at me, heads off to get the plywood. I look after the two of them before turning to look at where Vivain is still following me around, “What?” Vivain shakes her head at me, with what’s probably the most subtle barely there smile I’ve ever seen, then shoos me after Ku.

###

The feeling of actually taking in the life of the world is an experience. The pressure Script works just about perfectly, so all I have to do is relax in the right way and the universe comes pouring into me, becoming me. Energy thunders through the channels I’d stolen from the vampires filling my entire body with life. Powers that have only been barely working like my regeneration and strength explode into full bloom, working to a degree that I’ve only experienced when I first stole them. Little aches and pains that I hadn’t even noticed vanish and a lethargy that I haven’t been aware I’d been fighting against vanishes as well. I feel powerful for the first time in my life.

I kinda want to go find a stray devil and punch it in the face just for the hell of it.

Everything just feels better the longer I let the energy in. It fills me up, and up and up, until I start to feel stretched. The channels of my mana network swelling with the amount of power that’s being forced into them. At first the stretch feels good, like a muscle that hasn’t moved in far too long being exercised at last. Then I start to feel a strain, then it starts to hurt. I grit my teeth and hold on as long as I can.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore and slam myself shut, becoming separate from the universe once again. My breaths come in great shuddering gasps. My whole body aches, and then my revitalized healing soothes the damage I did to myself, and I feel better than I ever have before. I bounce to my feet grinning at my observers.

“It worked?” Pua asks, stepping forward to check me over, “How do you feel?”

“It worked great, and I feel great!” I chirp. God, I’m still chirping. I’ll grow out of that someday. I hope.

My cheer fades as I see the growing grin on Ku’s face, “So now we have a reliable way to heal you completely? And we don’t have to worry about you exhausting yourself if you work too hard?” I swallow hard and Ku’s smile turns downright evil, “We are going to get so much more done now!”

What have I done?

###

Any sense of restraint that the Ke’Kua’Okolani siblings may have had, vanishes like smoke in a strong breeze. As it turns out they’ve been taking it easy on me for fear of my starving to death from working too hard. Now that I can feed at least my metaphysical needs with half an hour of meditation they start pushing me hard.

The new pace does produce results though, and not just in improved skill. We learn that if I fill up on mana in the morning I can just about make it to dinner before I need to fill up again. As long as I’m not doing anything strenuous. So I need to ‘feed’ about twice a day with a fairly normal low activity level.

Sparing and working with my powers though I run through my meager reserves of mana, a term I decide I liked better than ‘life energy’, distressingly quickly. Which is a serious problem.

Learning to budget my mana is the only solution we have besides just waiting for my capacity to grow. So I learn to only use as much as I need when I need to, and relying on the skill that Ku is so cheerfully pounding into me for as much as I can.

My pleasant routine is interrupted when I arrive at the training field and find both Ku and Pua there. The two are engaged in a discussion of some intensity, in what sounds like German? Whatever it is, this time they clearly don’t want anybody else listening in. Ku spots me the moment I step onto the grass.

I head in their direction and Ku addresses me the moment I’m in earshot, “Ericka, today’s training is going to be called off. Pua and I have a meeting we have to get to, no idea how long it’ll last but it’s entirely possible that we won’t be back until this evening.”

I sigh at that. It’s not that I begrudge them other duties, they’ve already spent a huge amount of time helping me out. Mostly it’s that I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. Work on Script or find something to help out with around the village, I gues.

“I will teach her.” I nearly jump out of my skin at the inhuman voice behind me, “For this morning at least.” I totally forgot that the Lady of the Lake is still following me around. She isn’t really hiding herself, she just doesn’t do anything other than watch, quietly. It’s easy to forget about her entirely, which I have no doubt is the idea. Ku and Pua glance at each other and Pua steps forward. Before she can speak though, Vivain holds up a hand, “No debt will be incurred. This will allow me to further assess Miss. Rhostana, and she will continue to learn at her current pace. When both parties benefit there is no debt.”

I glance at Pua, who after a moment’s thought nods. So I turn to the Lady of the Lake and bow properly, “Then I’m happy to accept, th-” No, you don’t thank fae, “I’m great-” No, gratitude is thanking by another name, “I look forward to your instruction.” That works.

Vivain has a small smile as she watches my verbal flailing but doesn’t say anything, she simply nods. Ku and Pua glance at each other again and shrug in unison.

“In that case we’ll get out of your way.” Ku says as the two head for the parking lot, “Good luck Ericka!”

“Well then,” Vivain tosses me a dull steel two handed European sword which I caught easily. Where the hell did that come from? “Shall we begin?” Her own one handed sword is flying at my head before she finishes speaking.

Fighting the Lady of the Lake is surreal. I imagine it kind of looks like bad fight choreography, because no matter what I do, she’s always in position waiting for me. She never takes a stance, never hurries, never puts any effort into her actions, and she still hits like a truck, and always gets to position before I do. And through it all she lectures. They’re informative lectures, she critiques my style, form, footwork, posture, everything. It’s really good advice too, but she really can’t have made it any clearer that batting me around takes absolutely no effort on her part.

By the time she lets me go I’m sweating, empty of mana, and ready to call it a day and just go to bed. Unfortunately it's socialize Ericka day, so I don’t really have that choice. I run back to Pua’s house, shower, and spend half an hour meditating to both remove the strange gnawing hollow feeling having no mana gives me, and to calm down after getting worked over so hard by Vivain.

I’m not really upset or angry, but going from fighting Ku, who I’ve never beat, to fighting Vivain who is an infinitely more difficult opponent, makes it hard to believe I’m making any progress. Intellectually I know that I have to be getting better, and Ku is nothing but complementary about my progress. Still, it’s hard to see in the moment.

After my half hour break, I head back out to the central park where my unofficial gymnastics class waits for me. They’re rolling and tumbling and cart wheeling all over the place. Though they’ve at least taken enough of my admonishments to heart that they are sticking to lanes and all going in the same direction so they aren’t running into each other.

I clap twice to get their attention and start them on their warmups. Rolls across the field, then cartwheels back, then back rolls across again. Back and forth until they’ve performed all the basics I’ve taught them over the last few weeks to my satisfaction.

Then it’s time for something new. I make sure I have all their attention and start demonstrating how to perform one tumble into another. To start with we’re going to do cartwheels into forward rolls. I demonstrate a few times, then set the older kids to work as I help the younger ones not hurt themselves.

I still don’t like kids, but there is something hilarious about watching a five year old trying to coordinate all four limbs during dynamic movement and failing. It’s adorable, kind of like watching a puppy fall on its face. Undeniably cute, but you still feel somewhat guilty for being so amused...

A sound like being inside a huge bell that’s just been struck rattles the village.

I freeze along with everybody else as we all try to determine what the sound has been. A moment later it comes again and this time I’m looking in the right direction. From the north side of the village, in between the road and the beach, the sound is accompanied by a flash of light, then an invisible dome around the village ripples into visibility starting from where that flash of light had come from. Moments later the dome fades out again, only for the bell to sound again and the dome to once more appear.

Something is striking the village wards, and striking them hard. From how much longer the shield takes to fade every time it’s struck they won’t hold forever. Or possibly even very long, given how recently Pua put up the extra protections around the village

The children huddle together around me looking up at the rippling sky, “Ericka? What’s going on?” One of the younger boys asks, clinging to my leg.

Unfortunately the only answer I can give him is, “I don’t know.”


	15. Book 1 - New Friend's Old Enemies

By the third apocalyptic ringing sound adults have started to arrive, running to their children from all over the village. Kids rush to parents, parents rush to kids, and suddenly I’m surrounded. Once the kids are mostly taken care of by their parents, I wade through the crowd looking for the people who know what the hell is going on.

I find the Ali’i and several more of the older clan members and, again since they were talking in English, slide myself into a place where I can listen in.

“There appear to be five of them.” One of the villagers reports to the Ali’i.

“And you’re sure they’re from Kauai?” The Ali’i asks, not sounding like he has much hope.

“I don’t know where else you’d find dragon mo’o.” I’ve gotten quite the crash course on Hawaiian mythology staying here for the majority of the last few years. ‘Mo’o’ technically means ‘dragon’ or anything overly lizard like that isn’t mundane. It has come to refer to all Hawaiian shapeshifters though, and they come in far more flavors than just ‘dragon’. Old Hawaiian has a lot of words for different kinds of water, and each has their own mo’o. The dragons are only found on Kauai, and are associated with sea caves. They’re also all black widows. Every Kauaian dragon is, in human form, a beautiful woman. They also tended to eat men after sleeping with them. Which they do as often as they can get away with. Perhaps more important to our current situation is the very long enmity between Kauai and the Big Island. All attempts to unify the islands started on the Big Island, and Kauai is the only island they’d never conquered. Not for a lack of trying though. This results in a not insignificant amount of hate between traditionalists and the longer lived beings on both islands.

Something about mo’o keeps bugging me, though what it is I can’t put my finger on. Something about different kinds of mo’o? There are turtle mo’o in lagoons, really creepy kind of spidery ones in the lava tunnels, deep water has squid like ones with way too many arms, and sh... Shark mo’o associated with crashing waves. “Shit.” I murmure to myself as several things suddenly line up.

“Ericka?” I jerk my head up to find the Ali’i and all the elders looking at me, “Something to add?” The Ali’i asks.

“Uh... just that Pua has been talking about problems with sharks over the last few weeks.” I tell the leader of the village feeling more than a little nervous. I’ve never talked to him directly before, even though he’s been responsible for a lot of my good fortune with the village, “I remember that I heard her talking about having spoken to a... Ka... Ka... Kamohoali’i, that’s it, about them and him saying that the sharks aren’t his. Both Pua and Ku took off this morning for some meeting, which I’ll bet has something to do with sharks, and the moment they’re gone we get hit by Kauaian Mo’o? They were deliberately lured out of the village, and out of the way.”

The Ali’i nods slowly, “This is good news, if the Kauaians are unwilling to attack us while Pua and Ku are still here that means that the dragons don’t believe they could pull this off with them here. That means we only need to buy time until they can return.”

“We could hide in the training grounds but...” The elder speaking glances at me and the children, “The protections there will keep out anybody not known to them, and without the Kahuna to adjust them neither the children nor our guest will be able to enter.”

Lua is the traditional martial art of Hawaii, each clan, village, or family has their own unique style of it, which is a closely guarded secret. The place it’s taught is hidden and the art is only practiced at night to make things harder on any spies. Even though I’m treated like one of the village by most of the people here, I’m not, so can’t know anything about the Ke’Kua’Okolani Lua. Apparently, in order to help keep everything a secret, Pua has done something that would keep out the children too young to learn, as well as outsiders.

“I will keep the children safe.” Everybody pauses to look at where Vivain has been watching the goings on silently, “I will protect no others, but the young ones I will keep safe.”

The Ali’i studys the Lady of the Lake then, to my shock, glances at me. I can’t imagine what he wants. Normally it would be the job of the Kahuna to advise the Ali’i on supernatural dealings, but Pua isn’t here. So why... it hits me like a lightning bolt. I’m the most supernaturally knowledgeable person here at the moment, and I’m being taught by their Kahuna and chief warrior. Almost their apprentice if we’re being generous, and the Ali’i is treating me like I am.

I swallow hard. Fae love children, it’s the reason why changelings like Cait exist, because they can’t stand by and watch a child suffer. So the idea of a powerful Fae like the Lady of the Lake volunteering to keep a bunch of kids safe isn’t that unreasonable. I nod to the Ali’i, and he nods back at me.

Wha...?

Oh. 

Right. 

Only the Kahuna talks to greater powers to avoid anybody else saying something unexpectedly dumb. Like thanking a fae which would be most humans’ first impulse.

So how do I... got it.

“The Ke’Kua’Okolani will remember your generosity.” I say with a bow. There, I acknowledged that she’s doing us a favor, and simultaneously saying that there’s no debt as she volunteered. This act is a gift, one that would be remembered but requires no response from the village.

Vivain bows shallowly to me, and slightly deeper to the Ali’i, before turning and getting the adults with kids to help shepherd the children off. Given the direction they’re headed in, Vivain probably plans on keeping the kids in the forge she set up next to the fish pond.

I turn back to the Ali’i and the elders, “The rest of you should hide in the training grounds.” I tell them.

The Ali’i raises a single bushy white eyebrow, “And what will you do?”

I... I’m not really sure. I can probably hide pretty successfully on my own. Set up my pressure Script and use that to fuel my invisibility indefinitely since with the Script, taking in energy takes no focus on my part. If I set up somewhere out of the way they’ll never find me.

But that idea doesn’t really sit well with me. I’d drive myself nuts in minutes, and then probably do something stupid.

So instead I’ll skip the middle steps, and jump straight to doing something stupid? That does sound more like me. Besides, I glance up at where the wards around the village are now constantly visible from the strain.

“I’ll try to slow the invaders down.” I tell him turning back to the group, “If they can find and break down the protections around the village, they can probably do the same to the wards around the training grounds given enough time. No idea how much time that is, but I can insure that they’ll have less than they want.”

The Ali’i studies me carefully for a long moment, then nods, “We go to the training grounds.” He shouts over the din of the gathered villagers. They immediately quiet, “Take nothing. Go quickly, and do not tarry.” He turns back to me then, “Laki maikaʻi, Koa.” Good luck, Warrior.

###

I make a brief stop by my room in Pua’s house for a knife. I almost take the last knife that hasn’t been tested yet, but I remember how much I’ve been screwed over by the malfunctioning knife I’d used on the vampires. So instead I take the one I used on the Sirens, the one I know works as intended.

More or less.

Thus armed I head for where my new targets are pounding their way through Pua’s wards. It isn’t hard to find, I just head to where the noise is the loudest. Next to the barrier the sound of the wards being struck is literally deafening. If not for my regeneration I’d be looking at some serious hearing loss.

The edge of the village is marked by a line of trees that hold Pua’s growing spells tied to living trees. When I arrive I can see the trunks of several of those trees beginning to crack and splinter from the repeated impacts on the spells tied to their lives. They’ll break in moments and then I’ll be out in the open staring down five dragons, whatever their current shape.

That sounds like a terrible place to be, so I sprint for the nearest house. Like most houses in the village it’s a two story plantation style building with a red tea plant at each of it’s four corners. The front door isn’t locked, honestly locks were so infrequently used in the village I wonder why the doors still have them, so I let myself in.

As quickly and quietly as I can, I sprinted up the stairs. Halfway up the steps I hear the sound of several tree trunks exploding like popping popcorn. I slow down immediately, having no idea how good a dragon mo’o’s senses are.

Carefully I creep up to a window on the second floor that overlooks where the mo’o have been assaulting the wards. Outside the line of trees that mark the edge of the village is the black rock and sand of a young volcanic island. The tree’s mark a hard line where the blasted wasteland suddenly becomes a green paradise. Three of the border trees have exploded. Splinters of wood lay everywhere, and their leafy crowns have dropped forming an odd break in the otherwise solid barrier.

Just inside of the tree line stand five women. They all look remarkably similar, like they could be sisters. There’s little variation in height, all of them being near to six foot. They all have the same darkly tanned skin, the same long dark hair done up in the same warriors knot. They all ware the same coconut fiber cloth skirts and bark cloth chest wraps. They carry the same wooden knives edged in sharks teeth hanging from their wrists, and the same long cord with a cloth sack holding a single fist sized stone tied to the end, wrapped around their waists like a belt. Their tattoos are different but I honestly don’t care enough to use those as identifiers, and one of them wore a red cape.

The one in the cape seema to be the one in charge, as I watch she starts barking out orders in old hawaiian, which I unfortunately don’t know enough of to really understand what they’re saying. It becomes clear pretty quickly though, the five split up and spread through the village. Searching for villagers I assume. Hopefully all the adults have gotten out to wherever the training grounds are. I’m not really too worried about the kids. If these people want to pick a fight with the Lady of the Lake that’s their prerogative.

For now though I need to get to work. As soon as they start moving away I scramble out of the window and onto the roof of the house. I’m hoping that mo’o are as unlikely to look up as humans are. The houses are fairly well scattered, but I think that with my new strength I’ll be able to make the distance between at least the closer ones.

Picking out one of the mo’o to follow I get a running start and fling myself into the air. I flicker my invisibility, I’m not here, when I take off and again, I’m not here, when I land rendering both actions silent. Or at least unnoticed by my target. I’m not following the one with the cape, but other than that I still really can’t tell them apart.

I follow along behind my target as she starts to, apparently, do a lap around the outside of the village. Every so often she’ll stop, tilt her head back and sniff the air. I always vanish, I’m not here, whenever this happens to make sure she won’t catch an active close by scent.

Otherwise the next five minutes are very uneventful as I wait for the mo’o women to get far enough apart that they won’t be guaranteed to hear me attacking one of them. Finally though, I judged enough time had passed for sufficient distance to be acquired.

All I’m waiting for now is for my target to stop and sniff the air again. As I wait I consider. Is there anything they have that I want? I don't know a lot about what powers dragon mo’o are supposed to have, so I can’t really think of anything, besides the obvious, off the top of my head. I know they’re shapeshifters, and that they can breath underwater.

That’s about it.

Being able to turn into a dragon does sound pretty cool though. I wonder if I’ll turn into the same kind of dragon they do, or if my shape will be influenced by my very different ethnic background and what I’ve done to myself. Either way I’m looking forward to finding out.

Finally the mo’o I’ve been following stops to sniff the air again. Which is good. Between being invisible whenever I jump, or land, and whenever she scents the air, and whenever I feel more nervous than normal about being discovered, I’m beginning to run a little dry.

Even so I vanish again, I’m not here, and launch myself off my current roof. I plummet through the air undetected until I land on the shapeshifter knife first. The blade crunches through the woman’s currently human skull without issue, and the both of us hit the ground. Her face down, and myself kneeling over her body.

I frown confused as I don’t feel the rush of my gaining the power to turn into a dragon, or anything else rushing into me. That’s...

HOLY SHIT!

I jerk backwards as a tiny dragon the size of my hand erupts out of the woman's back like a fucking chestburster! It’s growing rapidly enough that by the time it has pulled its way half out of the human body and sank its teeth into my wrist, which took only moments, it’s as long as my arm.

I grit my teeth against the scream of pain that wants to escape them. Fortunately it grabbed my left wrist, leaving my knife hand unimpaired. Using it’s grip on my arm I yank the still growing dragon out of the chest cavity it emerged from, and managed to slam the snaky lizard into the ground hard enough to jar it.

Reminding myself that I’ll heal, I pin the top of its head to the ground by leaning on where it’s biting me. Driving it’s teeth deeper into my flesh and tearing at the edges of the wounds. My knee pins it’s back end to the ground just above its hind legs, and without a moment's hesitation I drive the knife into the smaller scales just under its jaw. The thing spasms once, twice. Then lies still.

For a long moment I’m cautious, as I still haven’t felt the knife activate, but then I realize that I hadn’t been focusing on anything. Glancing back at the human corpse that’s now boiling away into a rapidly dispersing vapor, I decide that I’ve dodged a bullet.

If chest bursting is how they shape shift, I want none of it.

On the other hand, I’m still low on mana. Note to self, on the final version of the knife make sure that it’ll steal life energy for me if I don’t tell it to do anything else.

Still that’s one down, four more to go.

###

I feel more than a little hollow, the feeling that tells me I’m just about out of mana, so I’m not willing to go roof to roof again. Without my fae glamor to render that method of travel silent, I’m unwilling to risk it. Moving on the ground feels less safe, but it’s much easier to do quietly.

It also means I almost get caught when I find my second target. This one is searching house to house. Probably making sure that there’s nobody hiding in an attic or something. I’m running as quietly as I can when she comes out of a house a door down from where I am. If she looks in my direction I’m screwed, but she’s looking the other way for the moment. That gives me just enough time to slide under the house I’m next to, taking advantage of standard Hawaiian construction lifting the base of the house a couple of feet or so off the ground to deal with the inevitable flooding.

I’m so glad that Pua’s wards keep dangerous animals like poisonous spiders out of the village. I’m from California, I’m more than familiar with the preferred habitats of both Brown Recluse and Black Widow spiders. I’d have definitely pissed off at least a couple of widows with my desperate slide under the house, if any had been here.

I carefully move to the edge of the house and peer through the vegetation planted all along the edge of the house, to watch the mo’o. She’s looking in the direction of my slide, causing me to hold my breath. She moves with determination in my direction, I grip my knife with a sweating hand. I'm not really sure if I can take a dragon, even in human form, in a straight fight. Straight fights are absolutely off the agenda for this afternoon.

She pauses, almost right in front of me, and bends down to peer under the house. I’m not here, I’m not here, I think frantically, feeling the hollow empty feeling increasing rapidly. Her gaze sweeps the underside of the house several times. She scents the air wrinkling her nose at whatever she smells. After far too long she stands looking around again, and I let my invisibility fall again. I’m trembling slightly and sweating from the exertion.

The mo’o woman turns a circle in the road in front of my hiding place. Scenting the air again and trying to find something. I can’t bring myself to activate my glamor again, so I’m unsurprised when she spins to look at the house, smelling the air again. She moves towards the house with a determined stride almost sending me into a panic that I’m about to be discovered.

I nearly sigh with relief when the mo’o heads up the front steps and into the house. I can hear her moving around through the floor until her footsteps fade around the middle of the house. I assume because she headed up stairs to search there.

I take a moment to think then. I can probably take her by surprise when she leaves the house, if I’m careful and lucky. Should I try to take something from this one? Last time it didn’t work because, apparently, a head shot isn’t lethal to these things. It only died once I killed the dragon body. If the dragon body doesn’t spontaneously generate then there’s a tiny dragon curled up in each of these women’s chest cavity somewhere. I’m betting near the heart, because that’s just how these things work. Maybe I can bring them down quicker by killing both bodies at once?

So, a stab to the heart like I’m killing a vampire, instead of to the head or throat. And if I’m wrong? I kill the dragon separately, again.

Still, stealing something. I don’t want chestburster shape shifting, that leaves water breathing. I could go for it, but I can’t quite shake the feeling of the near miss when I discovered how my brand new dragon shape would have manifested.

New rule, no stealing anything until I know how it’ll manifest in me. For all I know I’ll end up with a really obvious set of gills that I’ll never be able to get rid of. That would make blending in rather difficult, not to mention I just started feeling attractive, and don’t want to stop so soon. So no stealing traits from mo’o for now. I’m still running on fumes, so this target can at least give me some mana to work with.

I keep listening for the mo’o, and finally hear it coming back down the stairs. It moves around the bottom floor for a little while longer, then heads back to where it had entered the house. It exits the front door again and stands on the path looking around. I kind of wonder what she’s thinking about, but not enough to slow me down.

I gather the last dregs of mana I have, and creep out from under the house, I’m not here, and move up behind her. The Kauaian dragon is none the wiser as I take a moment to psych myself up, and focus on her mana. Then in one motion I wrap an arm around her throat, pulling her backwards, and drive my knife forward between her ribs. I try to catch a lung at the same time to keep her from crying out, while at the same time getting the little dragon I suspect is curled up in her chest cavity.

I must have gotten a lung, as all she lets out is a gasping wheeze, but there’s no rush from the knife activating. So I stab her a few more times rapidly, trying to shred everything in her chest without ever fully removing the knife from her body, just changing my angle. On the fourth stab I finally get what I’m after, and my knife rips the mana, life energy, out of the mo’o and feeds it into me.

It almost hurts. The mo’o has so much life that my mana network almost can’t hold it. As it is I feel stretched to just below the point of pain. Almost bloated. Fortunately I have a way to burn off the excess energy quickly.

Keeping myself vanished from all senses, I take to the roof tops again, I just feel more comfortable high up, and go looking for my next target.

Two down, three to go.

###

With full, over full really, mana I don’t expect the rest of them to be too difficult. I have a better idea of where to stab them to kill them quickly after the last one, and sneaking up on them will be easier now. Still I make sure to ration my mana as dearly as I can, just because I have plenty right now is no reason to get into bad habits.

I find the third at the stacked stone temple at the top of the village. The one that only Pua and the Ali’i are allowed up. I still have no idea what was up there, but apparently Pua’s serious about not letting anybody else up top given how violent the wards are being. The temple is a stacked stone step pyramid, it never comes to a point. That leaves plenty of open space at the top, it being just tall enough to make sure that there’s no place in the village where one can see the top of it. The area surrounding it is bare grass, which makes it easy to see the mo’o pounding her way through the wards set around the temple. Wards which are doing their level best to kill her back.

The mo’o is making progress, but not much. The spells around the temple are apparently more powerful than those around the village. Probably older, so they’ve had more time to grow and more generations laying them down.

Pua mentioned once that rededicating the temple after it’s been violated requires a voluntary human sacrifice, so I should probably stop the mo’o before she gets much further.

Wrapping myself in my I’m not here illusion again, I creep up behind the mo’o. Or try to. The bolts of power that the shape shifted dragon is throwing at the temple wards are creating backwash that isn’t easy to avoid, never mind the retaliatory blasts from the wards themselves. Reflected and evaded bits of destructive energy fly every which way in unpredictable patterns.

Still I manage to weave my way through the impromptu bullet hell, and slide into the safe zone immediately behind the Kauaian shape shifter. I line up my knife to try and kill the woman with my first hit, as opposed to having to search for the weak spot, when the mo’o twists and suddenly all I can see is the sky.

I have the brief feeling of being airborne, then crash to the ground. I gasp for air, and only then does twelve different flavors of agony radiate from my upper arm. A quick glance at how my arm above the elbow has twisted and flopped, literally bonelessly, tells me that the problem is more than a simple break. The trouble I’m having breathing tells me that I have at least one cracked rib as well.

If my skeleton hadn’t been troll bone, that one back hand from the dragon in human skin might have torn me in half. At least I know that ambush tactics are absolutely the right way to go with these. Which begs the question, what went wrong?

It only takes me a few moments, with the clarity of thought that only adrenaline combined with desperation can provide, that I come up with a potential answer. I remember that the illusion failed when I’d been, overly focused shall we say, watching the Sirens as well. Apparently while easier, ‘I’m not here’ is still too much for me to keep going if I’m paying attention to anything more complicated than moving at the same time.

The mo’o saying something in Old Hawaiian gives me the impetus to focus my wandering thoughts on the present again. She’s walking towards me at a slow casual walk as she unwraps the cord with a stone on the end from around her waist, and begins to spin the weight.

That looks like it would hurt.

Frantically, I search for where my destroyed right arm lost my knife. At the last moment I spot it, surprisingly not too far away, off to my right, and fling myself at it in a desperate dodge. I scream through gritted teeth as my arm jolts in response to my movement, but I manage to get my good hand on the knife and vanish again. I’m not here! As just behind me the weighted end of the cord hits the ground where my head had been a moment before. The damn thing strikes hard enough to raise a cloud of dust, and leave a small crater from the impact.

Troll bone or not my head would have exploded from that sort of impact.

I keep moving as I have no doubt that she’ll hit where the knife had been next. I’m not here. I’m nearly sobbing from the pain, but keep myself moving from nothing but pure stubbornness. I’m pretty sure that my humerus has been turned into gravel from that first hit.

I’m more than a little afraid of what will happen next. If the mo’o just starts blanketing the area with attacks in an effort to get lucky, I’ll have to focus too much on dodging to keep up the illusion. I’m not here. Which would make hitting me much easier.

Luck is with me for once, the mo’o seems surprised by my vanishing act and pauses looking around her. Apparently she hadn’t been aware of my appearing out of thin air behind her, or just wasn’t expecting me to pull the trick again. Or she saw me coming early enough that she was willing to try and bait me in close with her supposed ignorance of my presence, and I’d been visible the entire time. I’m not quite sure when I lost focus on the illusion after all.

I have no idea which theory is true and it hardly matters now. I'm not here. With her doing nothing but turning in a circle, her weighted cord at the ready, I have no trouble staggering my way over to her and plunging the knife through her stomach and up. Luckily, again, I do something right and the Script immediately activates, and I again suck down a dragon shifters life force.

I haven’t really used up all the mana I’d gotten from the last mo’o, which had nearly over filled me. This time there’s far more energy than I can hold. It fills my network to bursting, and then starts to leak through into the rest of my body as the channels it should flow through begin to tear... rupture? Describing how a metaphysical circulatory system fails is hard, and at least decent at distracting me from the pain. I feel stretched, like an overfull balloon, as the mana pounds against the inside of my skin, straining to find somewhere to go. It feels like I’m about to get ripped to pieces.

My rib fractures fusing and my regeneration beginning to do something with my arm drains mana quickly, but not quickly enough. Even trollish regeneration can only work so fast, and will only use up mana at the speed it works. While I haven’t lost a limb, with a shattered bone I might as well have. A month to regrow an arm, hopefully since I haven’t actually lost any mass it will go faster, but I’m not holding my breath.

In fact I’m panting, I feel like my skin is paper thin and brittle. I glance down at myself and my eyes widen in horror. My arms and legs are riddled with faintly glowing cracks, like glass in the process of shattering. In places my skin has split open wider, in larger wrents letting an almost neon blue light escape. Hesitantly I pass my fingers through the narrow jets of light shining from the tears in my flesh, and have to bite my lip to keep any noise I might make inside. The light feels like mana. My mana newly absorbed, forcing its way free of my body which has no more room for it.

I shudder, if the force of excess mana inside me can rip my skin open to relieve the pressure... if I over charge by too much would I just explode?

Not something I want to find out, but it seems likely given what’s happening to me already.

I take a deep shuddering breath, watching with some amount of relief as the cracks begin to shrink, my regeneration starting to overcome my internal mana pressure. The larger wounds slowly started to glow less, though they aren’t closing yet. There’s nothing I can do about that right now, save making sure my mana doesn’t go too high again, in addition to making sure it doesn’t drop too low.

With gritted teeth I force myself to my feet, and to focus on what I can affect right now past the burning thrum just under my skin.

Still I have a job to do.

Three down, two to go.


	16. Book 1 - Price

I’m not here.

In an effort to bleed off excess mana as quickly as possible I keep my illusion of absence up. Which is more than a little tricky as I also try to do other things. First I have to do something about my arm. My right humerus is gravel, something that will take even my trollish regeneration a noticeable amount of time to fix. So for the moment I have to do something to keep it from getting worse as I move around.

Looking around, the only thing I can find that could serve to keep my arm immobile, is the cord from the mo’o’s fighting rope. Doing anything with that will be awkward as hell with only one arm, but I don’t have an abundance of other options.

I manage to cut the weight off the cord by standing on one end of the cord, putting the other in my teeth, and using my one good arm to use my knife to make the cut. The easy part done, I manage to wrap the cord around my fore arm and torso several times and tie a... I’ll be generous and call it a serviceable knot that... sort of immobilizes my injured arm.

Honestly it sucks, but I can’t think of how to do it better, and there are still two mo’o running around my friends' home that have appointments with my knife. So with the illusion keeping me silent, I sprint back into the village from the temple. I’m tempted to take a flying leap onto the roofs again, but at the speed I’m moving at, I’m afraid that I’ll break something. Like a building. No matter how convincing the illusion, it is just an illusion, I am still here after all.

My illusion flickers at the thought, and I slow down to give myself a moment to refocus, I’m not here, and disappear from the senses of the world again. Illusion reestablished I take a moment to reassess. I’m next to the stream that cut through the middle of the village. Across and just upstream of me is the forge Vivain constructed next to the fish pond.

Standing in front of the forge, is the mo’o in the red cape. Opposite her in the doorway of the forge is Vivain. She’s planted herself feet shoulder width apart filling up the doorway. In each hand she has a hammer, one resting on the thigh of her forward leg, the other hooked over her shoulder. Behind her I can just make out the small forms of children trying not to attract attention.

So glad I read her right. There wasn’t much of a chance of her not protecting the kids being the fae responsible for Excalibur, but there’s knowing and knowing.

I stop moving to see how things are going. No fighting yet, obviously, but if they’re going to start, or headed in that direction I want to know about it before the fur... or scales I guess, starts flying. I make sure I’m still invisible, and listened in.

“...can not argue that removing our memories of this place is an aggressive act!” The mo’o is speaking loudly and passionately. Some part of me is surprised that they’re speaking in English. Though I suppose that between an ancient English fae, and an old Hawaiian dragon, modern English might very well be the only language they shared in common.

“I argue nothing.” Vivain’s deep water and hammer on anvil voice sounds downright bored, and maybe just a little like she resents the mo’o for wasting her time. “I care not about whatever petty squabbles brought you to this village. I care not what you do to it while you are here. Or to any of the other villagers that you manage to find.” Ouch, just in case you forget that the Lady of the Lake is a fae, “I only protect the children. The rest is not my concern.”

The mo’o growls, “In spite of your claims to the contrary, you seem to be very concerned.”

“With the lives of children? Yes.” Vivain smirks, “Do not growl at me little dragon. I might take offense.”

“Little!” The mo’o shrieks her hand flying to the shark tooth knife, “I’m over ten feet tall!”

“As I said,” Vivain’s voice dripped condescension, and from deeper in the village I hear the sound of running feet, “little. ‘Asides I think you have larger concerns.”

The red caped mo’o spins to look behind her as the sound of running becomes audible to her, and then is quickly revealed to be the last unaccounted invader. The new mo’o is pale and breathing hard, eyes wide, and the faintest scent of panic is carried to me on the ocean breeze.

The red caped leader quickly runs to meet her soldier, catching her as the newcomer collapses to her knees. The new mo’o speaks in Old Hawaiian, but panicked babbling transcends the language barrier to a certain extent. I think I may have been discovered. I haven’t exactly been hiding the bodies after all. I figured that if they’re found then the remainder would move slower from caution.

Frankly, I didn’t think I’d get as many of them as I did.

I glance back at Vivain only to find the fae looking right at me. I panic for a moment, checking to make sure my glamor hasn’t lapsed while I haven’t been paying attention. It’s still there though, I suppose a faerie of the Lady of the Lake’s power and age seeing through my illusions isn’t that unreasonable. Thinking about it, I'd be more surprised if she couldn’t see through it.

Vivain winks at me with a pleased smile, then turns her attention back to the two mo’o when the red caped one surges back to her feet with a roar that’s decidedly inhuman. The smell of rage fills the air, and the red caped woman spins and glares at the fae standing in her way.

“Mele, forget the rest of the village. Find where the Ke’Kua’Okolani are hiding!” She hisses. Why the hell is she talking in English? This is the first time any of the mo’o have spoken anything but Old Hawaiian to each other.

“Ae Nalani, but how will we get them out?” The other mo’o’s voice still shakes slightly, and her accent is thick, “Their refuge will be well warded.”

“Simple.” Red cape, Nalani I guess, I really don’t want to know the names of the people I’m killing. Afterwards, sure, but when I’m trying to do it I don’t want anything humanising them, making what I’m doing harder, “They will come out on their own, because we will have hostages.” She snarls.

That's why she’s talking in English. She wants Vivain to know what she has planned, wants her to worry about the other villagers, and what they’ll do to the kids as hostages. She still thinks that the fae cares about the rest of us, in spite of what she’s been saying and the mo’o is trying to take advantage of that.

Vivain really doesn’t care about the rest of the village. The implied threat won’t bother her at all. I care though. I care a great deal, but they don’t know I’m here. So all they’ve done is give me a heads up.

My internal mana pressure has finally evened out. My body is still swamped with excess mana, but it isn’t pressing on the inside of my skin any more. The tears in my skin are no longer glowing and have rapidly started to pull themselves shut. Some small part of me absently notices that the wounds hadn’t bled at all.

Looking up from my self assessment, the last remaining mo’o aside from the leader has started off into the village. Right, I’ll follow her out of sight of her boss and ambush her like I did the others. Then...

I glance back at where the red caped mo’o is stalking towards Vivain snarling. She said she was more than ten feet. That’s over a story tall. Sure the female troll I killed was bigger, but trolls are dumb. Really really dumb, and don’t have anything but brute strength and staying power to work with. Mo’o on the other hand are dragons. They’re smart, very smart, and they have power beyond the physical. Sure they’re small for dragons, but to a certain extent that hardly matters.

Dragons are dragons.

I have no idea what the Lady of the Lake can do with her power, but given the intensity of the mana radiating off of her, it has to be significant. Any fight between the two will be spectacular, both in terms of spectacle, and collateral damage. I’m sure that Vivain will protect the kids, she said she would after all, but fighting a dragon and shielding almost fifty panicking kids? That’s a risk no matter how you look at it.

On the other hand if I can draw the mo’o off...

I’m not here...

With nothing more than a thought to reinforce my glamor, I clear the stream with a single bound and sprint for the mo’o heading back into the village. God damn it... someday I’ll stop doing stupid things.

Some day.

Not today though.

The mo’o is moving at a walk, a fast walk, but still a walk, allowing me to catch up almost immediately. I pass her on the right side, my knife in my left hand, I drive the sharp iron blade into the mo’o’s back with all the force of my body weight and sprint behind it. After doing this three times I have a pretty good idea where to aim to get the little dragon in the mo’o’s chest.

Still best to be sure.

I ride the body to the ground and slam the knife into her back a few more times, just to be sure. Sitting back I examine the mo’o under me for a moment to see if I actually killed her. After a few seconds of no movement I let out a large breath. Another breath fortifies me for what’s coming next, and I turn back towards the stream, the forge, and the last pissed off dragon.

Vivain is watching me with an expression I can only call pleased, but it‘s hard to pay attention to her when she’s standing next to the red cloaked mo’o. That one is looking at me in shock. Shock that’s quickly being replaced by fury.

“You.” The mo’o hisses. Actually hisses, what looked like steam is leaking from between her clenched teeth, “You killed my friends.”

I cock my head to one side, “You brought them to attack an enemy village, essentially to war, what did you think was going to happen?” I’m beginning to think that this is not an official attack given how this one is talking and how young they looked, how shaken the one I just killed had been. They aren’t really warriors, more like some clever teenagers that snuck out to do something they thought of as really fun, and is actually really stupid, and had no idea what they were getting into. Of course these particular teenagers think that mass murder is fun, so my sympathy is limited. “I’d say you’re at least as responsible for their deaths as I am. I may have stuck the knife in, but you’re the one who dragged them in front of that knife. I mean, how many of them did you have to talk into coming here? How many would have been here without you? How many would be dead if you all just stayed at home?”

Normally taunting an already pissed off supernatural powerhouse, like a dragon, is a terrible idea. It probably still is, but I want her pissed off and focused on nothing but me. Pissed is stupid and if she’s fighting me she won’t be trying to get at the kids.

Granted I’m shooting blind for my taunts, but if she’s anything even vaguely resembling a good leader, she feels responsible for the people who follow her. Even if I’m way off base for why they’re here, she had to be feeling guilty. I hope at least.

Hope not in vain, something I said must have struck a sore spot. The noise that she producers is somewhere between a scream and a roar. Her chest dragon erupts through her rib cage in a spray of blood and bone fragments. This one grows in size almost explosively, going from cute little hand sized dragon to horse sized in the space of a breath.

Then the dragon wraps itself around the human body, and eats it in three large bites.

I’m stunned, I mean what the fuck? So glad I didn’t take that shape shifting.

After eating her own body, her growth increases in speed again. I blink and the horse sized dragon is the size of a single story house. The look of the thing isn’t anything like European dragons, but wasn’t the classic Asian snake dragon. Though more like the latter than the former. Just not nearly as long.

A wedge shape head leads into a long sinuous body that’s covered in sea green, and foam white scales. A fur crest runs from head to tail, which has a tuft of fur on the end. No antlers but bird-like feet dig into the ground with talons that are worryingly long and sharp. Overall she looks like something from a Miyazaki film.

The entire transformation, from beginning to end, takes maybe the space of a few heartbeats. Which is the only reason I see any of it, because as soon as I register what's happened I spin on the ball of my foot and run like hell.

There is no way I can fight this thing. I can’t fight them in human form, the armored supernatural tank behind me is way out of my league. Of course I don’t have to fight her, I just need to stall. I have to believe that Pua and Ku are on their way back here just as quickly as they possibly can. So all I need to do is keep in front of this thing until they get here.

Behind me comes the sound of huge lungs pulling in air quickly. I fling myself behind the nearest cover, a tree on the edge of the open space around the fish pond, failing to hold in the scream from jarring my still shattered arm. Deep breaths plus dragon only equals one thing. I’m proven right when a moment later the air is filled with high pressure steam.

The steam curls around the tree trunk, which is only barely large enough to provide any cover at all, and burns any exposed flesh it can find. Which means the outside of my arms and legs, my face and neck manage to escape with nothing worse than a mild first degree burn. Blisters are already forming on my arms and legs though.

I force myself to get ready to keep moving through the pain, which is fortunately temporary. First the taught too hot feeling on my neck and cheeks fades, then the blisters covering my limbs swell, and start shrinking again just as fast.

Troll healing for the win. So far definitely the best investment I’ve made.

A moment later the blast of steam stops and I take off running again. Behind me a roar indicates that the dragon is still pissed and focused on me. The stream runs through the middle of the village, so it only takes a few moments at my sprinting speed to get in among the buildings for cover. It’ll no doubt cause some property damage, but better that than child damage.

Behind me I can hear the air rushing across scales, and the occasional foot fall that’s both too light and too large. The angry dragon noises, and my bat enhanced hearing, let me form a pretty detailed image of what’s behind me.

The sinuous dragon flows like water through the scattered trees, flying across the ground rather than running on it. The dragon’s only nod to gravity is the occasional foot pushing against the ground. The sound behind me changes, and there’s another large inhale, which prompts me to leap to one side behind a house. Moments later another rush of steam clips the house and I wince.

I don’t know what a high pressure steam will do to the building, but it can’t be good for the paint job. With more cover to hide behind I don’t suffer any injuries, which is good. I’m not about to run out of mana, but I just don’t have the experience to know what I have left will translate to practically. Especially not with my arm in its current state.

After what feels like an eternity, but can only have been a few moments, the roar of the fast moving steam stops.

I hold my breath, listening as hard as I can to try and determine which way the mo’o is moving so I can keep running. The human shape of one of these has kicked my ass with a casual back hand, the dragon is utterly beyond me.

With a sound like the world ending the dragon smashes through the house and sends me flying. Why I thought some wooden walls would slow down the house sized dragon, I have no idea in retrospect. I twist in mid air using everything that years of gymnastics have hammered into my muscle memory to avoid landing on my shattered arm. I succeed, but landing jarrs the injury anyway, squeezing a strangled shriek from between my clenched teeth.

For just a moment I white out from the pain, or I think it’s a moment. I reengage with the world just as something slams down on top of me, pinning me to the ground and pressing down on my arm. The pressure on my mangled limb fills my vision with stars, when they clear I’m staring up at the face of a dragon.

It has a fore claw pressing me into the ground. Above me hoveres a narrow muzzle filled with serrated shark like teeth. Solid black eyes manage to project focused hate in a way I’ve never experienced before. It’s long fur crest thrashes and snaps as though caught in rough seas.

Worst of all? It’s too far away for me to punch in the eye.

It growls something in old Hawaiian, and after a moment or two of my uncomprehending stare it loses patience with me. I frantically scramble for anything that might be able to save me as it leans in close, still too far to punch, and begins to inhale deeply.

I inhale with it, an unconscious action caused by the expectation of painful death, readying myself to scream...

Scream...

As fast as I can using my crude control of my own mana, I channel as much as I can in what little time I have to my throat. I force as much as I can, for as long as I can, to the part of me that represents what I stole from the sirens. Then I don’t have any more time, the mo’o above me having taken in as much air as it can. I expel all that mana through my voice box, and I scream.

Every pain of glass in range shatters, exploding into jagged shards. Then the stone follows it cracking, popping apart almost like it’s been heated too far too fast. Then the wood that I can see comes apart into splinters. The scales on the dragon’s leg holding me down crack, and the mo’o rears back letting out the air it had taken in, in a high pitched almost metallic shriek of pain.

The leg pinning me down goes up with the rest of the dragon and I gasped for air. With the weight off of me, and having emptied my lungs with the scream, my throat is sore like an overworked muscle. Rolling over I try to push myself back to my feet with my one working arm so I can keep running.

I manage to make my knees when the sound of thunder fills the air. Looking up I find Pua striding across the grass looking thunderous. She has almost a dozen gourds of various sizes hanging from her belt and wrists. What really makes me nervous though is the gourd strapped to her back, it’s the size of a steamer trunk. In her hands she carries a gourd that she holds with its mouth pointing at the mo’o. From it pours lightning, filling the air with the smell of ozone. The python of actinic white lightning strikes the dragon right in the thick banded scales along it's chest. The bolt of lightning splits apart into tiny arcs of electricity that crawl across its body, causing its mussels to spasm and twitch visibly under it's scales.

Seeing how much lightning is in that small gourd makes me wonder idly what she has in the others.

Next to his sister Ku walks with purpose. As they approach, a faint white aura collects around Ku’s body. When the lightning runs out Ku moves. He vanishes in a burst of red mist, the only sign of his passage a rapidly dissipating trail of the same.

Turning to follow the trail I find him standing at the mo’o’s back leg, an open palm pressed against the dragon's scaled hind leg. The mo’o roars in pain again as the leg collapses dropping the dragon to the ground. For a moment it looks like the mo'o will catch itself, but it's still twitching muscles can't take the impact, dropping it face first into the ground.

The displaced air from its landing almost knocks me on my ass again, but Pua catches me, helping me to stay upright. When I manage to blink the tears the sudden rush of wind forced from me, Ku stands at the dragon’s head, his hand pressed flat against the side of it’s skull. Blood pours out of its nose and mouth, and leaks from its eyes like bloody tears. Though there isn’t any visible damage to its scales that I can see.

Ku steps back, the faint white aura around him fading as he shakes out his hands, flexing them slowly. As soon as her brother is clear of the dragon corpse Pua eyeballs the body, uncorks another gourd, and pours a carefully measured amount of black and red flickering energy on to it. The energy dissolves the body like Hollywood acid until there’s nothing of its body left, by which time the energy had been used up.

I stare at where the giant lizard that had been kicking my ass until a few moments ago has just vanished. After a few more moments I turn to the tiny kahuna, “What was that?” My voice is both flat and incredulous. I know what I think it was, but that would be ridiculous.

“Power of Destruction.” She answers as though that’s a perfectly normal thing to just keep in a gourd, and that’s in fact exactly what I thought it was.

What the hell?

Literally!

I can’t do much beyond stare at her for a few moments longer as I try to process that. While I reboot she starts to examine my crudely immobilized arm making very unhappy noises. After a few moments of this I can’t restrain myself any longer, “What’s in the big one?”

“You mean this?” She glances up at me and jerks a thumb over her shoulder at the huge gourd on her back. I just nod, and she winks at me, “A hurricane.”

###

It takes three days for everything to be sorted out. Not for the village to get back to normal. That will take a while just from the damage done by the mo’o while I was looking for them, not to mention the house that had been barled through by the last dragon shaped mo’o. What my scream had done to the surroundings didn’t bear mentioning. There isn't an intact piece of glass in the village, stone and wood suffered within a good few hundred feet. Things are running as normal as they can though.

Pua treated my arm while extracting my account of what had happened while they had been away. She’d wrapped it in a cast/bandage made of coconut fiber cloth and some large fresh green leaves that I don’t recognize, then put it in a sling and gave me strict instructions. I’m not to touch or disturb the bandaging in any way, and use that arm as normally as I can, which isn’t very. The thing will fall off when I’m done healing, and until then I’m mostly one armed.

I just shrug and go with it. I know from exposure that Kahuna healing magic is all about how to get warriors back to fighting as quickly as possible without weakening them. Never mind whatever else Pua’s managed to find scattered about the world.

I also manage to extract some of what happened to Pua and Ku wherever they’d ended up. Apparently Ku had spent several hours trying to coral some half dozen belligerent shark mo'o in the water, while Pua had gone to find and have a talk with Kamohoaliʻi. Kamohoaliʻi as I then learn is the king of sharks, and a major sea deity of the Hawaiian pantheon. With no small amount of work they manage to get the mo'o and Kamohoaliʻi in the same place at the same time. After a lot of yelling from the shark king, they learn that the sharks had been put up to everything by some dragons.

Pua and Ku knowing a setup when they see one immediately came sprinting back to the village just as quickly as they could. Arriving just in time to save my ass from the rampaging dragon mo'o. What happened to the sharks is conspicuously not mentioned, but from what I've managed to dig up on him, as Pele's big brother Kamohoaliʻi isn't the nicest of people when you get him riled up. I rapidly come to the conclusion that I really don't want to know.

I also spend a lot of time talking to Pua about what I did. I’ve killed people before, even if you don't count the vampires, which some folks don't, the Sidhe definitely counts, as does the rapist. For some reason the mo'o bothers me more though. The nightmares of stabbing a human shaped mo'o to death and turning them over only to find I've stabbed myself to death makes sleeping hard. Pua does what she can, but this doesn't seem like something that can be fixed quickly. Time will be required, and I'll just have to live with poor sleep until my subconscious does it's work.

On the third day though, Pua and I are told that Vivain wants to speak to me in her forge. Pua isn’t included in the invitation, but neither of us care much, and she comes along anyway. I haven’t been in Vivain’s forge before, so I’m somewhat eager to look around.

What I find isn’t that exciting. A forge, unlit at the moment, tools of various sorts that I can’t really identify beyond ‘hammer’ hang on the walls. Under the tools are bins with ingots of various metals waiting to be used. Next to the forge are several large tanks filled with several different fluids. I think one is water, and another is oil. What the other seven are, I have no idea. All of this in easy reach of the anvil that stands in the middle of the space. The anvil is raised up to about waist height on a log of some sort, and is currently being used as a table or desk by Vivain, who is seated behind it on a simple wooden stool.

As we enter I have the jarring experience of expecting the space to be dim. It isn’t, and why I thought it would be is a mystery since one entire wall of the space is open. It still throws me enough that I don’t notice the two additional stools standing on the opposite side of the anvil from her, until Vivain gestures for the both of us to sit.

It isn’t exactly comfortable, but comfort isn’t really all that essential. Honestly the simple surroundings and lack of typical host behavior make me more comfortable with the situation. My last encounter with a Sidhe may have left me more than slightly paranoid.

The three of us sit quietly, Pua studying Vivain, Vivain studying me, and I study the surroundings, for what feels like forever.

“I have decided that I will arm you.” Vivain finally breaks the silence, “I have seen you in battle, and in peace, and know what you need. I have also determined my price, negotiation will determine exactly what you get for that price. Once negotiations are complete, you will swear to me thrice to pay my price, and you will receive what is agreed upon.”

That’s unusual, I'm pretty sure. Pua’s raised eyebrow indicates that she agrees with me, “Negotiations will determine more than just that, but first what is your price?”

Vivain leans forward rising half out of her chair planting her hands on the anvil, and suddenly any pretense that the being in front of us is in any way human vanishes like smoke. Her hair turns a deep blue, and floats around her head as though she’s underwater. Her skin tinted just slightly an attractive shade of green, even as her eyes are consumed by light like the moon reflecting off water. Her fingernails carve divots in her anvil as The Lady of the Lake leans forward and hisses, the inhuman qualities of her voice rendering her almost unintelligible.

“I want my Excalibur back!”


	17. Book 1 - Fae Deals

I’m in something like shock.

Excalibur.

As in Excalibur.

The Sword of Promised Victory.

Broken into seven pieces, and each of those forged into seven new holy swords, each of which carried one power of the original... at least that’s what I recall from my halfhearted watching of Highschool DxD. Which doesn’t really match anything like what I recall from my understanding of Arthurian Myth.

Honestly the Excaliburs of the anime were kind of underwhelming. The original Excalibur would have been even more so if all it had were the accumulated powers of the modern Excaliburs. Especially here in High School DxD, I really don’t see how destruction, shape shifting (of the weapon mind), speed, and invisibility, even all together could add up to promised victory. Sure it might make somebody very dangerous in a duel. My understanding of ‘Promised Victory’ though, is more that when a leader takes the field carrying this sword their army wins, not them. Arthur ended up dead and Camlen after all, his army won, but he sure as hell didn’t. It just didn’t...

“Can I speak with Ericka for a moment before we keep going?” Pua’s question cuts through my thoughts, jerking me back to the present. Not quickly enough to hear or see Vivain’s response, but Pua beckoning me to follow her pretty much told me what it was.

I follow her out of the forge and a little ways down stream. Once I catch up with her, Pua reaches into a pocket and pulls out a glass vial of some powder that she spills in a circle around us. A few muttered words in what I think is Greek and suddenly all the sound from outside her circle vanishes. It feels kinda like I have to pop my ears, and just can’t for whatever reason.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Pua asks me seriously, “Now that you have an idea of what she’s asking for?”

I sigh, honestly on some level I expected something like this since Vivain had shown up. Maybe not this specifically, but something to do with one of the swords attributed to her. Prying all the pieces of Excalibur away from those who have them at the moment is definitely not on any hypothetical list of payments I came up with. Though now that oversight seems kind of foolish. Still, “It’s a tall order, maybe not as tall as she thinks it is, but still tall. Do you think you can get something that’ll be worth the effort out of her?”

Pua snorts, “Don’t worry about that, worry about whether or not you’ll be able to deliver.” She hisses the last at me, “You do not want to default on a debt with any fae, but especially not an old and powerful one. Which the Lady of the Lake most certainly is. So do you think you can pull it off?”

I scratch my eyebrow as I think, “Well I know where five of the pieces will be in about two years. They’ll be involved in enough chaos that just picking them up shouldn’t be too hard. If I can live through what’s happening. Hell I might be able to convince the exorcists that have the things when the dust settles to just give them to me. They’ll be pretty disillusioned with the church at that point. Pretty sure they both end up as devils actually.” I frown as I try to dredge up details about something I’d watched halfheartedly a literal lifetime ago, “I know where the sixth one is, though getting it will be more challenging.”

“Which leaves only the seventh unaccounted for.” Pua said deep in thought, “Who’s got number six?”

“Arthur Pendragon.” I admit and Pua winced.

“Any idea how to get it away from him?” Which is a fair question. Pendragon is considered a candidate for the title of ‘strongest human alive’ for a reason.

“Off the top of my head? Challenge him to a duel for it. Make sure he has the thing where we fight. Then cheat like a mother fucker, and run like hell.” The wry twist to my lips shows what a high opinion I have of that plan. Pua arches an eyebrow at me and I shrug, “Honor is for picking battles, not fighting them.”

Pua pulls another face that shows she agrees with me. Both with my sentiment about honor and the quality of that plan, “Are you sure you want to do this? You’ll piss off a lot of people.”

“I was always going to piss off a lot of people, but I don’t think it’ll be as bad as you think it’ll be. Of the three biblical factions, I think only the church will be really mad at me, and if I have to pick one of the big three factions to piss, off the church is the one I’d pick. The devils will probably throw me a party for making six or seven of the most powerful holy swords in the world disappear, and I can’t see where the Fallen would give a shit. Added to that, the church's soldiers are almost entirely Exorcists. I think I can take an Exorcist or two, at least they’re human. I’m not so sure about fighting a fallen angel, never mind a peerage of devils.” I shrug, “Also remember that I’m leaving. My plan always involved pissing off everybody I’m going to as close together as possible, and then ditching the universe before they can catch up with me.” Pua just stares at me for a long moment or two, so I keep going, “And aside from all of that, where else would I get weapons and armor of the quality and power being offered here? Not to mention with the unusual properties that I need?”

Pua groans, “All I can think of is either the dwarves of Svartálfaheimr, though I have no idea how you would get there, or what you could offer them. That or Buddhist Asuras Titans, who are supposed to forge their weapons out of elemental destruction, and I’m not even sure they exist. Hephaestus could probably do the work, but you’re even less likely to be able to afford him than the dwarves. There may have been a cyclops or two that could pull it off, but nobody's seen one of them in centuries.” I cock my head in question at her and Pua grimaces, “They kept on pissing off gods by out performing them.”

“What about whoever forged Kusanagi?” I ask trying to think of other magic swords in the world and who made them.

“Susano’o found Kusanagi in an eight headed snake’s ass. Nobody knows where the hell it came from.”

I sigh, “So this is it.”

“This is it.” She agrees with a very put upon sigh of her own, “All right, lets go get the better end of this deal.”

###

Listening to an experienced and powerful Kahuna and an ancient Fae negotiate is the auditory and intellectual equivalent of an Escher painting. I can mostly track what’s going on at any given moment but how it’s happening, I have no idea.

Still when all is said and done, I think it turns out pretty well. In layman's terms what’s agreed upon is this:

For three shards of the True Excalibur, I will receive a sword with the potential to equal The Sword of Promised Victory. Explicitly what the Lady of the Lake had forged, and not the replicas that the Church is so proud of. This blade will be one that will continue to function as intended no matter where I end up, will be unable to be permanently destroyed, damaged or lost, and will always be a boon to me in combat. Never a hindrance, no matter what powers I gain or how powerful I become.

For two shards of the True Excalibur, I will receive a suit of armor. Armor that will, similarly to the sword, continue to function as intended no matter where I go, will be unable to be permanently destroyed, damaged or lost, and will always be a boon to me in combat, never a hindrance, no matter what powers I gain or how powerful I become.

For one shard of the True Excalibur, I will receive an Athame made to the highest standards of fae forging. It will contain the perfected version of the Script I’ve been testing with my knives, be unable to be permanently destroyed, damaged or lost, and be usable in combat.

For one shard of the True Excalibur I will receive some trinket of equal value to the Athame. Exactly what that trinket will be will be determined, and delivered, when and if I can actually find and retrieve the last damn shard.

None of these will have any backdoors built into them, nor would any form of control be added to their nature. What is delivered to me will be loyal to me and me alone.

On my end, upon the agreed upon items being completed, examined, and vouched for by a third party, in this case Pua, I will swear thrice to deliver the shards owed. So six of them at least. Then I’ll then get the weapons and armor.

There’s no time limit on delivery as long as I’m making some reasonable effort to pay my debt. Waiting for specific circumstances to occur counted, as long as there’s an actual definite event I’m waiting for. Planning and gathering information are also considered reasonable efforts.

I am not required to do anything that will be guaranteed to result in my death or permanent maiming. Nor is paying off my debt required to be my only activity during this time, again as long as I’m still making an effort to do so.

At the same time I’m not allowed to stall, or artificially delay delivery. Waiting for the best opportunity is fine, making up reasons to delay payment is not.

All in all a pretty sweet deal.

###

I sort of expect forging to begin immediately after the agreement is made, but that’s not what happens. First measurements are taken, to make the armor fit perfectly. I also have to actually make the finished version of the trait theft script. Something that takes me another week with Pua, and surprisingly Vivain’s help.

Once all that is done we find ourselves back in Vivain’s forge. The Lady herself looks over the notes she’s made about my proportions, and what each item will be required to actually do. Something she hasn’t let me look at, but Pua assures me it will be everything promised.

Finally Vivain sets the notes aside, “Very well, well let us begin.” She turns to me looking very serious, which makes me more than a little nervous, “I’m going to extract two portions of your soul. These pieces will be forged into the sword and armor making them part of you. They will repair themselves, and even regrow in your soul should they be destroyed entirely. You may even be able to learn a way to store them in your soul so they will always be at hand.”

I turned to look at Pua trying to project my the only thought in my head, ‘Are you fucking serious?’ at her as hard as I can. 

Her only response is to nod.

I sigh to hide the small kernel of panic that’s growing in me and nodded at Vivain, “All right. Let's do this.” Before I come to my senses and think better of this.

Vivain nods back to me, and steps forward. Without warning she plunges both her hands into my chest like I’m a pool of water. Only Pua grabbing my shoulder keeps me from jerking away from her. Vivain’s face screws up in concentration, as she pushes her arms deeper into my chest, almost up to her shoulders. Deep inside me I feel her grab something that I bet most people would never recognize. I know what it is though, because it’s the same thing that’s altered every time I steal a trait.

The Lady of the Lake solidifies her grip and begins to feel up my soul, looking for something specific. I would have felt profoundly violated if I hadn’t agreed to this, or hadn’t been told what’s happening. As it is I just feel profoundly uncomfortable. Finally she finds what she wants, she grips harder, and pulls.

The feeling is a literally soul deep ache that only gets worse as whatever part Vivain has a hold of pulls free. One of her arms comes out of my chest holding something that shines in colors that don’t exist and is a shape that simply isn’t.

At the same time it looks so very much like me that I almost reach for it, only Pua pushing my arm down stops me. As Vivain slips that piece of me into a gourd that Pua offers to her I feel like I’m losing something precious. The moment the gourd is corked, the fae turns back to me and plunges her arm back into my chest to start the whole process over again.

The second piece takes less time to find, and removing it only makes me ache worse. The moment Vivain finishes and removes her arms from me exhaustion lands on me like a ton of bricks. I just feel so much less than I was a moment ago. My legs buckle, and my vision fuzzes as I become too tired to focus. The only reason I don’t collapse entirely is Pua catching me. The tiny Kahuna grunts in strain as my large form collapses against her, but she manages to brace me enough for me to keep my feet.

“Come on.” Pua grunts, “Let’s get you someplace to lie down.” It’s all I can do to nod and stagger towards not here with her help.

“Before you go!” Vivain calls out behind us and I nearly brake down into tears, I’m so tired, “Were you planning on any major physical changes in the near future?” The fae asks, “On the same scale as your increase in size?”

Changes?

Right, I had plans for things I would kill and steal traits from. Would any of them change me physically now that I’ve gotten the Script right? I don’t think so... Plans have changed though. I’m stealing Excalibur bits, so I’m going to be hanging around at least a few acceptable targets with wings for a while. Just the thought of everything I’m going to have to do in the near future makes me even more tired.

Still, that is the plan.

“Wings.” I mutter trying not to slur my words, “I’m going to get a pair of wings.”

“From?” Vivain prompts.

“Angel.” I manage to get out, swaying on my feet even with Pua bracing me, “From a fallen angel.”

###

I wake from the sun hitting me in the face. Which is unusual, normally I’m up and working long before the sun gets to the point where it can get through my window. I roll over with a groan wishing I could sleep longer. Whatever happened yesterday really took it out of me.

I groan again and try to get out of bed, and instead hit the ground with a thud. My legs are made of water, and refuse to hold me up without sufficient warning. My everything is sore, which is something I haven’t experienced since getting my troll healing.

Still habit drags me through my morning workout routine, refilling my mana, and into the shower. The closest to dressed I can bring myself to achieve though are sweat pants and a tank top. I stumble down the stairs to find Pua, Ku, and Thea sitting around the breakfast table.

All three of them have various flavors of concern painted across their expressions. Thea has the general look of concern that she actually has a lot while looking at me. It’s almost kind of motherly, like she’s worried that I’m not eating enough. As though reading my mind she pops to her feet as I come in and starts fussing and getting me something to eat.

Ku’s concern smells more like dread... sort of. Like he’s watching a train wreck and is waiting for the body count.

Pua is more resigned, she knows what’s wrong and is getting ready to deal with the fall out, rather than worry about what has already happened.

I slump into a chair at the table, and plant my forehead on the table top, “How are you feeling?” Pua asks.

“I’m sore, which I thought I wasn’t capable of being any more, so I’m also a little upset about that. I’m tired, and I’m hungry...” A plate of food is placed in front of me, “Thank you, oh goddess of the kitchen.” I mutter and dig into the full English breakfast Thea has given me.

“You slept in,” Ku says cautiously, prompting me to look up at him curiously, “After you eat, are you going to want to get in some practice? You’ve got a new sword coming, focusing on your swordsmanship might be a good idea. Especially since I bet that we could get Vivain to at least admit what kind of sword it’ll be.”

I open my mouth to agree, then pause as what that would involve hits me. Ku would beat the crap out of me until I’m out of mana from my regeneration working. Then I’d overfill my network to just shy the point of damage to try and speed up it’s growth, which would also hurt. Then we’d start the process all over again. I know I’m improving, but right now it just doesn’t seem worth it. I’m already sore, and avoiding pain seems like a great idea right now.

“Not really?” Everybody stares at me. Which is fair, I don’t think I’ve ever not jumped at training before. Never mind actively avoided it, “What? I had two pieces of my soul ripped out yesterday.” Even as I say it, it sounds wrong.

This really isn’t like me at all.

Nobody says anything as I finish eating. I stand to put away my dishes, but Thea steals them out of my hands with a smile, “So what are you going to do if you’re not training?” Pua asks as I’m left standing with my hands still outstretched where they’d had a plate a moment ago.

“I’m...” I stall out again. What am I going to do? Training and exercising are right out. Both sound like work and I just don’t have the energy for it. I could try to figure out some of the holes in my future plans, like how to survive the Gap... but that sounds like work too. The only thing I do that sounds even vaguely like a hobby is drawing, and Sarah was right all those years ago. Drawing isn’t really a hobby, I don’t do it for fun, “...I don’t know...”

Feeling more than a little bit lost I wander upstairs to change into something more appropriate for a nice Hawaiian day, then back down stairs, out of the door and then I just keep wandering.

###

I end up on the beach after almost an hour of going everywhere else. The field where I practice with Ku, the larger field where I taught munchkins how to fling themselves through the air and at the ground without dying. I even pause for several long minutes by the fish pond, where I stare at the forge and listen to the ringing sounds of hammer on steel. Or whatever more exotic material Vivain is actually using. I can’t imagine soul alloying well with mundane metals.

But eventually I find myself on the beach. The sun warm, and the sands pale, the smell of salt water filling the air. The waves crashing on the reef in the distance provide a constant low roaring background to the shrill cries of sea birds.

Gentle swells roll onto the beach, lapping against the feet and legs of the younger members of the village playing in them. The kids have already bounced back from the invasion, and are splashing and playing in the relative safety of the shallows of the shielded bay.

A gaggle of somewhat older kids are being taught how to surf by a woman who looks about my age. She’s wearing a very brief bikini showing off her dark pacific islands complexion, and softly defined feminine muscle.

She gives me something very nice to look at while my mind runs in circles. From the occasional glance in my direction, and shy smiles she doesn’t really seem upset about my ogling her. Still, I try to keep my staring to the environment she happens to be in rather than at her specifically.

My mind is in turmoil though. It’s becoming increasingly clear to me that I haven’t done anything but drive myself into preparing for the supernatural world, and escaping it, since literally the day of my birth. When was the last time I read a book or seen a movie that wasn’t required for a class? Have I ever watched TV or played a video game?

I don’t think I ever have, not in this life.

I used to.

In my last life I’d been a nearly obsessive reader. My friends used to joke that I had a book addiction from the pace I went through them. Apparently a full length novel a day is unusual.

I’d watched movies, and TV, it’s how I know anything about where I am now at all. Since I’ve been reborn though...

Nothing but driving myself at a goal that’s probably impossible. Anything that might have even the slightest chance of working, I pursue and damn the consequences.

God, the only time I slowed down is when I’ve been injured, and I only stopped when Sarah made me. Even then it was more for her than because it was something I enjoyed.

I should really go visit her at some point. Suddenly the idea of taking a break to go to a club and actually try to enjoy myself doesn’t sound so bad. It would be different at least. It occures to me that right now I’m not actually much of a person. I’m more a biological machine and that...

“Hey!” I’m yanked out of my thoughts and look up to find the pretty surfing instructor, looking even better fresh from the sea, standing over me with a slightly awkward smile, “Um... I noticed you sitting here and you seem kinda upset,” I’m sure we’ve been introduced before, what is her name? “and I don’t really know you well enough to ask you what’s wrong, but surfing always makes me feel better, so I thought I’d see if you wanted to join us, and maybe it would help you at least feel better even if it doesn’t actually help solve whatever the problem is?” She speaks in a rush, her decidedly run on sentence ends in a squeak. Like she ran out of air at the end there, and had been determined to finish before she took a breath anyway.

Her name is... “Leimomi right?”

Leimomi beams at me and nods her head, “That’s right.” She sounds thrilled, “You can call me Lei though. Leimomi is kind of a mouthful for constant use.” She visibly snaps her mouth shut to keep from continuing on.

“I don’t really have a swim suit...” Which is kind of odd now that I think about it. Who the hell comes to Hawaii without a swimsuit?

Somebody who has no idea what fun is that’s who. Wow, that’s depressing. I’m not the only one who thinks so either.

Lei gapes at me as though I just told her that I keep my extra head in my room, and normally just walk around with the two.

“You what?” She squeaks, “Why don’t you have...” Lei shakes herself, “Not important. Here stand up.” She holds out her hands, and without really thinking I take them, then carefully get myself up without pulling her down on me. I may not weigh as much as I did just after killing the trolls, when I was at nine feet tall, but I’m still six foot plus of super dense bone and muscle. Even if them being mostly made of carbon means I’m not as heavy as one might think, if I just pull on her she’ll end up in my lap.

...

Something to think about later.

The top of Lei’s head is even with my collarbone, so she ends up face to chest with me. Swallowing hard she takes a quick step back, and looks me over, “Well I don’t think anything of mine is going to fit you.” No kidding, not only am I taller than her, but broader in both the shoulders and the hips, “Well... Do you have a sports bra on?” She asks looking down at the shorts I threw on before leaving Pua’s house. I actually ended up owning a few pairs of board shorts simply because they’re the easiest and cheapest thing to find in Hawaii. So after being in the islands as long as I have I ended up with a lot of them.

“Yeah...” I nod wondering where she’s going with this.

“Well in this case of emergency you could just take your shirt off and use the sports bra as a top, assuming it won’t turn transparent.” Lei offers with a smile.

I think about that for a moment, looking back at the beach and the water. The water does look pretty nice. With a shrug I pull my tank top over my head, tossing it onto a spot out of the sun where I’ll be able to find it again easily. When I look back at her, Lei is staring at my stomach with her mouth open slightly. A cough from me is enough to snap her out of whatever trance she was in, and when she looks back up at my face, which takes a moment longer than I would have expected, she’s blushing hard enough for me to see the red through her complexion.

After a moment of awkward silence I decide to point out something that might end up being important pretty soon, “I have no idea how to surf. Never done it before.”

Lei’s blush fades slightly as she gives me the brightest smile I’ve seen since the first time I called Sarah my best friend when we were six.

“That’s okay! I’ll teach you!”

###

Surfing ends up being a lot of fun and not nearly as difficult as I thought it would be. Granted I have excellent balance and an unreasonable degree of kinesthesia. Balancing on the board isn’t exactly hard, and I don’t try anything too difficult. Between the two I think I do pretty well for a first time.

My instructor giving me so much personal attention can’t have hurt either. I’m worried that she’s neglecting her other students for a few moments. Looking at the teen’s she had been teaching though, they’re either ignoring us or watching with big smiles and copious giggles.

They seem fine, so I just shrug and ignore them, focusing instead on following the advice that my surfing instructor is giving me. Lei really is very attentive, even when I’m not doing anything wrong.

Lei and I finally called it quits long after the rest of her students have given up and wandered off to do other things, and only then because the sun began to set. She’s tireless and could have clearly kept going longer, proving she’s a born and bred surfer girl. I can only keep up for so long because I have more endurance than is probably good for me. An artifact of giving up anything that might resemble a life for more training time.

Lei definitely wants to stick around on the beach longer, and invites me to go night swimming with her while she blushes hard enough to be visible even in the fading light. I turn her down, swimming has become an adventure for me since my muscles and bones became stupidly dense. I don’t really float all that well any more, it’s something that’s on my list of things to find a way to work around. In all that copious free time I have.

Honestly I’m kind of surprised the surfboard floated with me on it.

Lei seems disappointed but not really upset. So bid her goodnight, and get a shy hug for my troubles, which I gently return. Then I head back to Pua’s house. I’m still sore, but the day surfing has proven that it isn’t really a physical soreness.

Probably something to do with getting a couple of chunks of my soul torn out.

Still, a diner that Thea had left out for me, feeding my mana needs, and a shower, and I’m ready to crash.

Much later that night I sit bolt upright in bed as several things about the day line up and snap together into a complete picture.

“Holy shit... Lei was hitting on me!”


	18. Book 1- Dreams and Stories

The tea is quite good, which is odd as I’m normally not much for tea. Or coffee for that matter. Definitely a hot chocolate girl. Still, Sarah has always wanted to have a tea party but I’d never really gone for it, so it’s the least I could do for her now. Besides, the tea is good.

The rest of my friends sit with us, their own cups either held or on the table in front of them. Ku, Pua, Cait, even Leimomi has joined us looking nervous and cute.

“So he starts giving this speech, about how I would never be allowed to succeed, and how the Light would always stand against me!” We’re all laughing at Pua’s story about how she ran into a young self taught mage, who had decided that she was a dark witch of some sort, and he was the one destined to defeat her, “So then he starts in on how his friends stood with, him even if they weren’t there, and he carried their hopes and dreams with him, and so could not fail!”

I’m holding my sides gasping for air. I’m laughing so hard that I’m sure the only reason I haven’t cracked a rib is because of my troll bones. I’m snapped out of my laughter by the sound of a wet cough.

I glance up and find blood dribbling out of the corners of Ku’s mouth, bruises and lacerations cover him, but nobody else seems to notice. Pua keeps telling her story, and the others continue laughing and listening. Even Ku still has a smile on his face as he coughs up more blood trying to laugh.

“Pua!” I scream as I frantically try to stop some of the bleeding, but my hands keep passing through him as though he’s a ghost.

“Ericka.” Pua’s calm voice pulls my attention away from her brother as he shudders once, then goes still. I look up at her tears running down my face, “Everything’s fine.” She smiles at me in a way that’s normally comforting, but becomes horrifying as her flesh blackens and cracks exposing a deep red glow, and burns away, “Everything went just how you wanted them to.” Her smile never wavers.

I lunge to try and put her out, even though I can’t see the flames, but as with Ku my hands just pass through her.

“Pua?” My voice cracks as Pua dies, reduced to ashes with a smile on her face.

“What’s wrong, Kitten?” Cait’s voice sounds rough but still cheerful, and I’m afraid to look up. Afraid of what I’ll see happening to her. For some reason I look anyway. Black veins crawl across her flesh, the rest of her skin having turned a pallid grey.

Something is poisoning her.

Iron, it has to be iron. I just have to get it out of her and she’ll be fine.

She has to be fine...

I run to her side, patting her down to find whatever she’s been stuck with. Again, to me she might as well have been made of air. She reaches up with a trembling hand giving me the bright smile she has when she’s proud of me and pats my cheek, wiping away a few of my tears. “Don’t cry, Kitten. It all went just like you wanted.” She sounds so happy as her hand drops and she stills.

“I shouldn’t have wasted my time on you.” I jerk my head around to see Lei glaring at me. Blood runs down her arm from where it looks like something with large jaws and sharp teeth has taken a bite out of her. As I watch, another bite vanishes from her torso. I flinch but she just keeps glaring at me. “We could have been so good together, but you had plans.”

“Lei...” I move to try and help her, somehow, but by now I’m not even surprised when I can’t touch her. Sliding through her like one of us isn’t even there.

“Don’t call me that.” She snaps at me as more bites are taken out of her, blood gushing from the wounds, “If I’d known this is how your plans would end I’d have avoided you like the plague you are.” She hisses, then goes silent as the next bite crunches through her neck.

I scream, sobbing, looking down at my hands covered in blood. The only part of any of them I’ve been able to touch, “Why can’t I help them?”

“Of course you can’t help.” As much as I try not to, I look up. Sarah sits just where she has the entire time, watching me, calmly drinking her tea. Except she looks older now. Creases line her face, and grey streaks her hair. She gets older and older as I watch, withering away.

“Of course you can’t help.” Sarah repeats, “You left, just like you planned, remember?”

###

I jerk upright in my bed, tears running down my face, covered in sweat and gasping for air.

It was a nightmare.

Just a nightmare.

I take a deep breath and let it out again shuddering.

Well I’m never sleeping again.

With more effort than it should take, I roll out of bed and drag myself to my feet. My body still hurts, though by now I’m certain that the pain has nothing to do with my body. So I force myself through my morning exercise routine, though I find it harder than it should I have, and not just from the lingering pain. As I reach the point of feeling the workout I find it harder to make myself continue on.

By the time I finish, which takes a good half an hour longer than it normally does, the sun still isn’t up. I also still haven’t shed the lingering effects of the nightmare. If everything works like I thought it would, once I’m gone I’ll never see any of these people again. People that, in spite of myself, I’ve come to care about.

Maybe I can do something though?

With that lingering thought I head over to my desk and pull my Script Dictionary to me to start designing a new Script. Maybe I’d be able to keep some hope of seeing someone from here again after all.

###

An hour later Pua finds me on the couch in her living room staring blankly at her big screen TV as I idly press the channel change button over and over again. I’d managed to work on my new Script for maybe fifteen minutes before I found I just couldn’t any more. It was like when the task grew difficult my mind just... shut down.

After staring at the Dictionary and a blank sheet of paper for another fifteen minutes, I gave up and came down stairs. Unsurprisingly in spite of Pua having what seems like every channel known to man, there’s still nothing on. Not that it stops me from looking, I seem capable of at least that much of a task.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Pua asks gently sitting on the far side of the couch from me. She’s wearing sleep shorts and a tank top, her legs curled under her as she leaned back against the arm rest.

I shake my head, “Nightmares.”

“You want to talk about it?”

I pause for a long moment, “I’ve recently realized that outside of training I don’t have much of a life. Or much of a personality.” Which of course has nothing to do with my nightmares. I think Pua realizes that as well, but she doesn’t call me on it. Which is nice of her.

“So what are you doing about it?” My Kahuna asks mildly.

“I started learning how to surf yesterday?” I offer fighting to keep a blush off my face. Given the way she narrows her eyes at me I don’t think I pull it off. I cough once, and keep going before she can start digging into that. The last thing I want to do is set Pua off on Lei and what I’d realized before I went to sleep the night before. I swear my social life is some sort of pet project for her. I don’t want to know what she’ll do if she thinks she has the opportunity to set me up on a date, “I started thinking about what I used to enjoy doing, from my last life.” I stop changing the channel and stare at the screen. There’s something on but whatever it is doesn’t register, “I remember reading, though nothing specifically sticks out. I remember watching TV...” I refocus on the screen, it’s an infomercial, “but aside from the one about this place I can’t remember much of any shows I might have watched.” Pua says nothing, just watching me, “I don’t know what I like any more.” I refocus on my companion, “I don’t suppose you have a recommendation...?”

I trail off as I get a look at Pua. There’s a manic light in her eyes and her grin has become slightly insane, “Oh... I might have one or two...”

In the end I don’t leave that couch for the rest of the day. We end up binge watching something that Pua sold to me as a Magical Girl anime. And it is, it even starts off looking like any other Magical Girl show I’ve ever heard of. Has all the necessary parts, mysterious animal companion handing out powers and wishes, monster of the week, it’s cute.

Then it takes a turn towards existential horror on the order of ‘Soylent Green is people’.

When I figure this out Pua laughs at me and I beat her with a pillow, then we get on with watching.

The show is good. Though I’m not sure exactly how it’s supposed to help me sleep at night.

###

I do manage the night without nightmares. I force myself through my morning routine again and head down stairs.

Ku is waiting for me with a look of determination on his face that makes me want to turn around and go back to bed before it’s too late. Unfortunately as good as my senses have become Ku is somehow still more aware of what’s going on around him.

“Ericka,” He calls just as I’m about to start slowly backing out of the room, “come in here and eat. You’re going to need it.”

With a groan of resigned suffering, I comply with the order and start in on breakfast. After getting a good start I glance up at where Ku is still waiting for me, “So what are we doing today that necessitates forced nutrition?”

“I spoke to Pua, and she says that there’s nothing wrong with your body. Furthermore, that there's nothing you could do physically that will make your condition worse.”

“Condition?” I think I know what he’s talking about but it’s always better to not take chances.

“Your soreness.” So, about what I figured, “Given that we’re going to start training again this morning. So as soon as you’re done eating we’ll get out there.”

Well damn.

Twenty minutes later I’ve finished eating, rinsed off my plate, changed into training gear, and at that point, run out of things to stall with. So with obvious reluctance I jog my way out to the field where we practice.

We start out with drills, which are fun and mindless. They get us moving and warmed up. Then a new technique is demonstrated and we drill that a few times, then we get to sparing.

Which is when things go wrong.

I feel pressured the moment we start in a way I haven’t experienced before. My blocks all seemed to come at the last moment, and my dodges are always frantic. I can see opportunities to attack, but they would require me to move a lot faster than I have been up until then. I just can’t make myself go for them, which is something I’ve never had a problem with before.

Granted normally I get punished for taking those chances. with a dull sword upside the head or planted in my ribs. Still I took my shots, nobody ever won with pure defense after all. Now though... pattern recognition tells me that trying for those shots will only end in pain, and that they won’t succeed anyway, so what’s the point?

I twist my hips to put up a block that even I can’t call anything but half hearted. The feint I just fell for let Ku plant his sword in my ribs almost without opposition. Come to think of it even when I don’t take false openings all I get is pain.

At least it doesn’t last long as my troll healing takes care of bruises in moments.

Frustrated, mostly with myself and the way I’ve been half assing things, I throw caution to the winds and take a shot, trying to capitalize on Ku’s recovery from hitting me in the ribs. There’s a flash of motion and then I’m on the ground with my skull ringing staring up at the clear blue sky.

Ku’s face interposes itself into my view with a frown, “What the hell was that?”

The only answer I can give him is to close my eyes and groan. I don’t know what to tell him, I don’t even know what’s going on in that fight. I can’t focus, too busy trying to figure out what’s so off with me.

“Right.” Ku says with a sigh, “Let’s stop there for the day, I think you’ve had enough, and I need to talk to Pua about something.” He helps me haul myself to my feet and we head back towards the Kahuna’s house.

A short walk delivers us to the door and I follow Ku inside. He immediately goes looking for his sister. Finding her quickly coming out of the kitchen to see what we’re doing. To compound my feeling of failure I don’t even require a shower, I hadn’t worked hard enough to sweat. So I just drag myself to the closest comfortable seat I can find.

I flop down onto the couch and throw an arm over my face. Through cracked eyes I watch Ku start to say something only to be interrupted by his sister. Moments later they’re having a rather intense conversation in what I think is German, while taking frequent furtive glances in my direction.

Clearly they’re talking about me.

Just as clearly they don’t want to actually tell me anything about what they’re saying about me. Which is more than a little frustrating and annoying. After several long minutes Ku looks concerned and heads back in my direction, “Pua’s convinced me that pushing training right now won't do you much good. So we’ll leave it be for the time being.”

He looks very worried, as though he expects me to self immolate or explode or something. When I don’t he just nods awkwardly and shuffles off. That was kind of amusing, I’d never seen Ku shuffle before. It’s sort of what I imagine he looks like after he’s been scolded by his mother when he was little.

I stand with a groan and wander my way out of the house, I don’t particularly want to stick around and be subject to their worried looks. It isn’t even noon yet, the sun still climbing in the sky. Still, I can already hear the sounds of the village going about its business. Lei is probably down at the beach, already looking after the kids and trying to infect them with her love of surfing. I’m not really in the mood though, too distracted by what has already happened. So instead I just wander thinking about what went wrong that morning.

It isn’t that my skills have faded, or that I’ve somehow lost knowledge or practice. I don’t think that I’m less intelligent than I had been. Somehow I just had a harder time doing things.

Even if I could see how to do them.

At some point while I had been lost in my own thoughts I stopped walking. I find myself standing next to the fishpond looking at Vivain’s forge. I feel a strange kind of melancholy staring into the shade of the interior. I can see the forge fire, glowing a pale straw color. I can see and hear Vivain working the metal of my artifacts, the ringing of her hammer filling the air.

In between me and her is a long table mostly empty, there’s a breastplate sitting out on it though. Made of a metal that shines an off white, it’s plain and unadorned and the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Unable to help myself I’m drawn to the protective sheet of metal, my hand rises almost of its own accord towards the breastplate.

Vivan appears from nowhere slapping my hand away from the armor piece.

“Not yet.” She tells me sternly, “You’ll not touch anything until I’m done and have given them to you.” She glares at me and I nod hurriedly. The last thing I want is to accidentally find myself in breach of contract with a fae. If touching them early would violate some term or clause I’d missed in the deal we struck, I’d leave it all the hell alone.

No matter how much I want to just touch it, even once.

Vivain, after examining me intently for a long moment, nods, satisfied by something. “You can come in then. Just sit on your hands.”

I’m not inclined to argue, and follow her into her workspace. Strangely the ache that has been with me since the beginning of this, fades slightly inside of the forge. I follow the fae smith’s advice though and find an out of the way workbench that doesn’t seem to be in use, and sit on it.

And very firmly sit on my hands at the same time.

Vivain turns back to her work, the regular beat of her hammer is almost soothing. The silence fills the space like darkness in a deep cave, the sound of her hammer ringing out like a single flash of light. Those brief moments cutting through the quiet make the silence surrounding them feel all the more oppressive.

Eventually I can’t take being quiet with my own thoughts spinning around in my head any longer, “Why do you want Excalibur back?”

It’s a dumb question, but one that’s been bothering me since she named her price. Vivain acts like the sword was stolen from her, but she gave it away, right?

There’s the feeling of a pause in Vivain even though her hammer never falters in its rhythm, “Because the Excalibur is mine.” She answers easily.

I frown at this simple yet entirely uninformative answer, “But didn’t you give it away? Wouldn't that make it... well not yours anymore?”

Vivain snorts, “It was only a loan.”

“What?” It slips out before I can stop myself and I get a rather impressive glare from the smith for my trouble. I shrug slightly embarrassed, “It’s not what the stories say.”

Vivain continues to glare at me for a long moment before turning back to her work with a sigh, “During one of the wars Arthur fought,” I start to ask a question, only to be cut off before I can really get the question properly formed, with the answer and another glare, “I never really paid attention to the specifics.” She growls then turns back to her work, “Humans fight wars constantly, keeping track of them is a waste of time. As I was saying during one of the wars that Arthur fought he found something that Caliburn, as powerful as it is, could not fight. Unsurprising really. I forged Caliburn to primarily identify who would be the best ruler for a country. Anything else it does is more of a side effect.” I blink.

Was Caliburn even a thing in High School DxD? I don’t remember anything about it, but it could easily be in some part of the series that I never saw... And isn’t Caliburn just a step along the way of the corruption of the sword’s name? It starts out as Caledfwlch or something like that, right?

Then Caliburn.

Then Excalibur.

Vivain glances over her shoulder at me as though daring me to say something. I, wisely in my opinion, elected to keep my confusion and questions to myself.

“So Merlin came to me to ask for something more battle worthy. After some back and forth and payment from the wizard, I agreed to give Arthur Excalibur on the condition that it would be returned to me upon Arthur’s death. When Arthur fell at Camlin he ordered one of his knights to throw the sword back into the lake. The knight... Gawain I think, took the sword, but being devout Christian he apparently decided that the church deserved my sword more than I did, no matter what promises had been made. So he lied to his king while Arthur lay dying, saying he’d done as ordered.” Vivain pauses then and sighs, gazing into the distance with a winsome little smile, “I’d like to think that Arthur would have seen through his knight’s lies, and forced him to do as was promised.” She sighs again, her head dropping, “Arthur died before he could though, and Gawain took Excalibur to the church.”

Vivain turns back to her forge with a sort of forced determination that to me says that she’s done talking. So I quietly take my leave, with one last longing gaze at the breastplate that still sits out. I force myself to keep going though. I’ve been given plenty to think about.

###

That night at dinner I eat slowly, thinking hard about many things. What’s wrong with me, because I’m becoming increasingly certain that something is. My new Script that I can think about just fine, as long as I don’t try to put pencil to paper. About...

“A girl came by looking for you today, Ericka.” Thea comments to me.

Horror seizes my tattered soul as I look up at Thea, and then with mounting dread turned to look at Pua. The Kahuna has a brilliant smile on her face as she locks eyes with me, and I find myself unable to look away.

“Oh, who was it?” Pua asks innocently, which I know damned well is a lie, without ever looking away from me.

“Leimomi, I think her name was.” Thea says, focusing on her plate, having no idea what she’s doing to me, “She looks after the village kids sometimes, teaches surfing I think.”

“Oh. Does she?” Pua’s smile has turned down right evil, “Is she cute?”

Thea ponders for a moment, “I’d say so. Sporty I think is the best word to describe her.”

I groan softly. I’m doomed.

Doomed I say.

“Ericka,” Here it comes, “you should ask her out. Since you’re taking something of a break right now.”

“I’m not sure I...”

“If you don’t ask that girl out,” Pua tells me seriously, “I will do it for you.”

Normally I’d have told her to go fuck herself, for trying to dictate what I should do with my nonexistent love life. I just don’t have the energy to fight against the force of nature that is Pua though. Especially not while she’s arranging something that she thinks is good for me. Just thinking about it leaves me so tired that I can’t even work up the energy to be mad about it.

So apparently I have to figure out how to ask a girl out.

I think I’d rather fight some monster that could kill me with a casual swat again.


	19. Book 1 - A Date or Something Like It

Asking a girl out is hard.

On some level I knew that, but...

Well, as much as my memories of my last life are getting fuzzier, I’m pretty sure that I only ever had one girlfriend, and I’m equally sure that she asked me out.

So this is a very new experience.

I don’t think I like it.

It’s been a few days since Pua delivered her ultimatum, and during that time I’ve done all right in general. I’ve been sleeping mostly okay, the nightmares haven’t stopped, but none of them have had the punch of the first one. They’re getting easier to ignore.

The ache that has pervaded my everything similarly hasn’t faded, but gotten easier to ignore. That makes it easier to move like I used to, though my body hurts more when I stop. Still meant that spending days at the beach learning how to surf are easier. Not that spending time with Lei is that difficult to begin with.

Thanks to my unfair advantages I pick up a very basic competence on a board very quickly. I can’t do any of the tricks or more spectacular things that Lei does, but I’m happy enough just being able to ride a wave next to her.

I haven’t asked her out though. There are no dates. Just surfing trips to different beaches. It’s fun but I still haven’t asked her.

Which is why I’m doing what a lot of people do when confronted with a difficult task.

I’m procrastinating.

Something about Vivain’s forge calls to me. What it is I’m not entirely sure, but I suspect the missing pieces of my soul are responsible. Whatever it is, I frequently find myself standing outside the forge staring in. Or even just gazing in the direction of the forge whether I can see it or not.

Fortunately Vivain doesn’t seem to mind my hovering. Or even my questions when I work up the guts to ask them. As long as I don’t sound like I’m doubting her, or interrupting her she’s actually pleasant company, and a very good conversationalist.

“That’s a lot of Script.” I’m once again sitting on my hands this time on a stool I’ve brought myself so I can sit in a place where I can watch her work.

At the moment she’s working on the sword, and sitting on my hands is a spectacular idea. Even with the metal glowing a deep cherry red, even feeling the heat from where I’m sitting several feet away, I still want to touch it more than I’ve wanted anything before in my life.

What prompts my comment though is that Vivain is covering the blade in Script symbols in between every fold of the metal. Creating layers upon layers of Script into a three dimensional working. How she manages this without destroying the previous layer I have no idea, but she seems pleased with how things are going.

The comment earns me a small smile, “Which surprises you, how much... Script as you call it, I use, or that I use it at all?”

I squirm slightly, “The second actually. From what I can tell, anybody can use script, but I got my Script dictionary because nobody else wanted it. Sort of implies a lack of use.”

Vivain nods her hammer rising and falling as she begins to fold the metal again, “In my experience most that have any experience with Script share two qualities. At least a thousand years of age, and spending most of that time trying to figure out the how of magic, instead of just the what.” I blink and pause for a moment to see if she’s going to add anything before I ask my questions. Instead of speaking she places the head of her hammer against my chest and pushes me back to my stool.

I didn’t even notice standing up.

With a swallow I sit down and grip the seat of the stool to try and keep myself there. The damn sword is red hot, troll healing is notoriously bad with burns, and yet something inside of me is absolutely certain that the likely permanent maiming I would get from touching the sword would be worth it.

Fortunately I have more than enough discipline to ignore that little voice.

When I’m paying attention.

“How does magic do what it does, as opposed to what it can do.” I blink and it takes me a moment to find the thread of the conversation again, “Eventually pursuing the how leads one to underpinning after underpinning. More and more fundamental magic, the foundation that everything is built on. Script is frequently described as the ‘language by which reality defines itself’. Things don’t get more fundamental than that.”

“Is that how you started studying it?”

“No, I was taught by the same man who taught me smithing.” Vivain smiles faintly, “At the same time actually. Nuada was skilled in many arts, that he decided that I might equal him in the crafting of magic and metal is still the greatest compliment I have ever received.”

“Did you?” I have to ask, “Equal him, I mean?”

Vivain snorts, “No. The man who killed Balor by standing in his gaze, shielding the rest of his people until the Fomori fed its life into the effort to strike him down, that man is unique.” The smith seems to be on the edge of tears, though her smile said she isn’t upset, “Airgetlám, The Silver Hand, has no equal.”

###

“Ericka!” I wince slightly and start looking for an escape. Pua’s tone indicates nothing good for me. I’m flopped across her couch with a book. In my efforts to find things I like that don’t involve hitting people, or more accurately getting hit. It’s about a girl who wants to be a knight so swapped places with her twin brother pretending to be a boy. It’s a fun...

“Ericka! Focus!” Pua is standing at one end of the couch looking across it at me, hands on hips, and frown on her face. Behind her I can just make out Thea laughing at my predicament in the kitchen, “Have you asked Lei out yet?” Instead of answering I try to hide behind my paperback, “I didn’t think so. Up! She’s going on a supply run, you're going with her.”

“Why?” I ask weakly.

Pua narrows her eyes at me, “Because you can pick up heavy things and put them down again. And while you’re out there you can ask her to dinner.” Yeah. Because there’s absolutely no chance of me panicking and losing the power of speech, “Don’t you think at me with that tone!”

...

How the hell?

###

The sky is a dark grey overcast, that in any other state of the union would have meant chilled air and cool temperatures. This however is Hawaii and that means that all the marine layer does is crank the humidity up to one hundred percent.

It’s miserable.

There are however advantages. Leimomi walking around in cut off jean shorts and a bikini top chief among them. She seems to be having fun too, which just makes everything better. We’re walking through a hardware store, her with a list and me pushing one of those orange, flat, heavy load cart things behind her. She points when we find something on the list, and I dutifully load it. The little pirouette and smile she does every time she finds something pretty much makes my afternoon.

The ache... doesn’t feel as bad around her. It isn’t gone, just much much easier to ignore.

We collect paint, cement mix, and a lot of wood. Repairs around the village are still ongoing. I think they’ve decided to take the chance to do some renovations at the same time.

In short, as in shape as Lei is, she either needs me or a lot more hands to move all of this.

Knowing now that Lei is hitting on me, it’s easier to spot. Her smirk as she watches me in a tank top load the village truck we’ve taken to get here is kind of obvious.

“Enjoying the show?” Oh dear god, that came out of my mouth.

“Only as much as you did.” Lei shoots back with a grin. I think my face is in danger of igniting my hair, I’m blushing so hard. My smile won’t go away either though, “I’m going to get us some shaved ice.” Lei smirks at me, “After you finish up here I think you’ll deserve a treat.” She heads off throwing a smile over her shoulder and deliberately putting some extra sway in her hips.

Not that I’m looking.

Dear god, Pua is right. I need to ask this girl out, or we’ll end up skipping the step all together. I mull that idea over as I keep my hands busy finishing moving the wood into the truck. By the time I’m done Lei still isn’t back, which is odd. There’s a shaved ice cart next to the entrance to the hardware store. Granted we are parked a little ways back in the lot but not that far.

I take a moment to make sure that my sunglasses are still on and the tops of my slightly pointed ears are still covered by my now shoulder length hair, and go looking for her. It doesn’t take long. She’s standing just a little ways away from the shaved ice cart, her back against the outer wall of the hardware store. Standing in front of her with one hand on the wall next to her head is a rather tall man, with another leaning up against the wall next to her. Between the two they have very effectively trapped Lei.

I can smell both their interest, and her fear. My lips peeled back in a snarl, and I start forward. The two are well muscled and tall, clearly not locals.

Tourists.

...No, their build, clothes, stance, something, or maybe everything all together makes me think soldier. No uniform’s so on leave. Fair enough, that isn’t uncommon. I think the Hawaiian islands are something like forty five percent military base by area. Doesn’t change what I’m going to do next. It does change how I’ll go about it though.

Details don’t really become clearer as I approach, literal eagle eyes mean I can pick out details at a truly ridiculous distance. What I do gain as I get closer is perspective. I think I have a couple of inches on these guys.

I don’t know why, but that strikes me as very amusing.

Without really acknowledging either of the men I elbow them aside and take Lei by wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and immediately pivoting to leave. The look of relief on her face when she sees me is almost enough to make me turn around and punch them as hard as I can. Only knowing that if I do that their heads would pop like overripe grapes, and cleaning that up would be a pain, stops me.

“There you are.” I force a smile and some cheer into my voice as I scoop her away from the wall and the two off duty soldiers. That this puts my body in between them and Lei is a complete coincidence as well. I push her a little ways in front of me, just so that if the two idiots behind me try something she’ll have a little bit of safety by distance.

I really hope they don’t do anything. I really don’t want to get into a fight with these two. I don’t have much hope if they’re willing to pin a girl against a wall though.

“Hey. HEY!” Low and behold. I don’t respond, just kept walking and when Lei starts to turn, a hand on her shoulder keeps her moving forward, “Aw, don’t be like that. Come on, there’s two of you now, two of us. We’ll have a great time.” We keep walking. My hearing maps what’s going on behind me. Both of them are moving after us, one in front of the other by half a step.

The one in the lead reaches for my shoulder. I let him get close enough to actually feel the weight of his hand, just so there would be no doubt as to who the aggressor is, before I spin and push his arm to the outside, before I snap my own arm down and grab his wrist. I squeeze. I squeeze until I feel the bones in his arm begin to flex just a hair, then stop.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” I growl. I can hear Lei’s breath speed up and the smell of fear is back. I really hope that I’m not the one that’s scaring her this time.

Message delivered I let him go and he staggers backwards clutching his wrist, “Fuck! What the fuck!”

The soldier that I haven't bruised catches his friend. He looks pissed, face red with anger, “We just wanted to talk, bitch! What are you, some kinda dike?”

I blink, I honestly hadn’t expected that. Behind me Lei’s scent gains an undertone of anger, “First off, the idea that the only reason we might not be interested in you is that we’re gay is just... staggering arrogance. Second, as it happens, yes. I am. Now will you leave us alone?”

The second soldier’s red face pales.

Well shit.

The punch comes with little warning aside from that change in blood flow. A lean and a sliding half step back put me just out of range of the straight. The follow up hook is slapped past me unbalancing the soldier forward slightly. It’s enough though for me to plant a hand on his face and shove him backwards into his friend.

This... is kinda weird. I’m pretty sure that I could have taken the both of them even back when I was still short. Sure these guys are fast, strong, and trained in the finest tradition of... whatever branch of the military they belong to. Close quarters combat has been my life since I was five years old though. Give everybody involved guns and I’d be in trouble, but in a fist fight I’m hard to beat. Then I grew more than a foot and put on a whole lot of troll muscle.

It’s just... the only people I’ve really fought since I got all my enhancements working the way I want them to, is Ku and the goddamned Lady of the Lake. Aside from anything else, these two are mundane humans, compared to Ku these guys are moving half speed at best.

So I stay on the defensive, weaving through their punches, deflecting attempts at a grapple or two, and maneuvering or pushing them into each other's way. They keep up a pretty impressive pace for almost two minutes, which any real fighter will tell you is a god damned eternity in combat, before they break off and create distance to reassess.

They’re breathing hard, their skin has taken on a light sheen of sweat. Which is not a great thing in this heat and humidity. I, on the other hand, am still breathing calmly, like I’ve just taken a casual walk along the beach.

“You know, guys, I can literally do this all day. I won’t have to, but I could. I won’t have to because in another three minutes, six at the outside, the cops will be here. At which point I will be sent on my way with a pat on the back for not escalating the situation, and acting in self defense and defense of another. You on the other hand will be arrested and subsequently have to explain to your commanding officer exactly why you were attempting to assault two women in a public parking lot.” The two blink and look around, it seems to dawn on them only then where they are, “Somehow I don’t think that the excuse, ‘they told us no’ will fly very well.” I give them a moment for that to sink in. To imagine how that conversation would go, “Or, we can all go our separate ways right now.”

I wait for several beats to see if they have anything to add. When they don’t move or speak I turn back around, keeping a very careful ear on what they do, and escort Lei back to the truck.

It only takes about fifteen minutes to get back to the village, the entire ride is silent, neither of us speaking a word. I figure Lei needs the time to calm down, an idea backed up by the fear slowly leaking out of her scent.

I need the time to think.

What had happened back there could barely be called a fight, the idiots had been so out classed it was funny. What’s occupying my mind though is how I felt during the whole thing.

The ache had almost vanished altogether. For some reason during that entire fight I felt great. For those few minutes I felt empowered in a way that I haven’t felt for a while. What I can’t figure out was why. Why did fighting with Ku do nothing for me, but dancing around those two assholes make me feel, just a little, like my old self again.

The more I think about it, the less sense it makes.

What was it about this fight?

...Was it the fight at all?

Going over the afternoon again that feeling of rightness hadn’t started with the fight. It had started the moment I realized Lei was missing, and had hit full force when I saw her trapped against the wall.

Now if I can just figure out what the hell that means.

“Ericka.” I blink. Somehow while I haven’t been paying attention, I managed to drive the truck back to the village and park it on autopilot. Once my brain has caught up with the present I turn to look at Lei. She’s looking up at me with a small smile flitting around her lips, “Thank you. For saving me. I feel kinda bad you never got your shaved ice.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I smile at her, “You were kinda distracted.”

“No.” She shakes her head, “Let me make it up to you. Come to my place tonight, around seven? I’ll make you dinner. We can watch a movie afterwards.”

I swallow hard, “Um... if you insist?” She nods solemnly, “Then I’d love to, I’ll see you at seven.”

“Great!” She chirps and leaned across the bench seat of the truck to kiss me gently on the cheek, “It’s a date!” Lei hops out of the truck and skips off into the village as I sit where she left me, stunned.

Lei kissed me.

On the cheek, but still!

Wait... did she say date?

She did, didn’t she.

I have a date with Lei.

I have a date with Lei.

I have a date!

What do I do? WhatdoIdo?

...

###

“Sarah!” I burst into existence in her dorm room in a panic.

Sarah is there, which is fortunate. What’s less fortunate is that she’s in just her bra and pants, laying on her bed, with some shirtless guy laying on top of her.

Sarah shrieks nearly knocking the guy off of the bed. She scrambles to cover herself for a moment before she figures out what’s going on, “Ericka? What the hell! This is why we call before visiting!”

“How did she even get in here?” The guy asks but we both ignored him.

“Sarah you have to help me IhaveadateandIdon’tknowwhattodo!” I’m almost dancing in place and wringing my hands.

“I mean, she’s hot so she could join in, but seriously, how?” The guy keeps talking.

We keep ignoring him.

“I don’t care, you’re supposed to call... Did you say you have a date?” I nod, “You. Ericka Rhostana. Miss I’m too busy learning how to break people to actually interact with them, have a date.” I nod again, “Ohmygodyouhaveadate!” Sarah squeaks, and pushes the guy off the bed and onto the floor, before hopping off the bed herself and running up to give me a hug.

...I’ve had a few dreams that start this way.

“Right.” She pulls away from me gripping my shoulders and looking up at me, “I’d pick you up and swing you around but I don’t think I can do that anymore.” Spinning around on the ball of her foot she finally addresses the guy, “You need to go.”

“What?” He blinks, then blinks again when Sarah beams him in the face with his shirt.

“Come on, up!” Sarah levers him to his feet by an arm and ushers him out the door.

“But...!” Is all he gets out before she slams the door in his face.

“Um... who was that?” I’m feeling a little guilty now that I’ve had the chance to calm down a little.

“I have no idea, don’t worry about it.” Sarah says dismissing the whole thing, guy and all, with a wave of her hand.

“What?! Sarah...” Now I’m worried.

“Oh relax. Midterms are right around the corner, and I needed the stress relief, it’s not something I do a lot.” Before I can even start to speak she holds up a hand and reaches under her pillow, “I’m being completely safe.” She flicks her wrist and something hits me in the forehead with a plastic sound, “And if he tried anything I didn’t like, you of all people know I could break him in half.”

I catch the thing she tossed at me as it bounces off my head and find it’s a condom.

Ew.

I toss it back at her and sigh, “Fine. It’s none of my business anyway. As long as you’re being safe.”

Sarah catches the bit of plastic and stuffs it back under her pillow, “Nah. I’m never going to complain about you looking out for me. But that’s not why you're here. Let me get a shirt and we can get you ready for your date!” She finishes with a squeal and a more than slightly manic smile, “It’s your first after all. I’m going to make sure you at least are perfect.”

Oh god what have I gotten myself into?

###

I stand at the foot of the path to Leimomi’s front door trying not to have a panic attack. Or another panic attack, if my bout of hyperventilation in the changing room counts. Sarah had managed to calm me down, and for the rest of the several hours we spent shopping muttered about how troll’s and dragons are no problem, but the pretty girl has me beat.

I didn’t argue with her.

She’s right after all.

The dress she found for me was sleeveless, not low cut in the slightest, but does hug my chest and stomach enough that Sarah said it would still show me off well. The skirt flares and drops to just above my knees, and the entire thing is covered in delicate white on white embroidery. No sooner had Sarah found it than she forced me to put it on, declared me adorable, made me buy it, and took me back to her dorm to put makeup on me and do my hair.

When she was done and pointed me at a mirror. I looked... well I’d date me. The dress shows off the muscles in my arms very well while still looking feminine. I managed to fend off Sarah’s attempts at high heels. They’re uncomfortable, and I don’t think my legs need the help. The makeup is subtle and minimal which I appreciate, but the most impressive thing is that Sarah had done something that really brought out the red in my hair that’s usually too dark to see outside of direct bright light.

I couldn’t really take my eyes off my reflection, even as a sun could have been setting in my cheeks from the intensity of my blush. I look good, I’ve never worn a dress before, and it feels odd, but given the results I could see myself doing it again.

So given that I know I look good, that Lei likes me, she asked me here after all, why am I freaking out so badly? Probably something to do with inexperience. I take a deep centering breath and forced myself up the path.

Before I have a chance to really think about what I’m doing I knock on the door. From inside I hear a squeak, and then the sound of somebody moving quickly on bare feet. Moments later the door is yanked open and I come face to face with Lei in something other than a swimsuit and casual clothes. Her dress is low cut, providing a spectacular view, and seems to be wrapped around her. The cloth crosses over itself along her front, and slides open by a little every time she takes a step, giving tantalizing glimpses of her legs. The dress never shows anything it shouldn’t, but successfully creates the illusion that it’s always on the edge of doing so. She has her hair in a french braid draped over one shoulder with a large pink flower tucked behind one ear just improves things. All in all, she looks good enough to eat.

Her own eyes rake me up and down, and I find that I don’t mind the look. With a smile she waves me inside, pointing to where I can leave my sandals. In a place like Hawaii where rain is seen year round, avoiding mud on the floors is achieved more by planning than cleaning.

Lei’s house is small, a kitchen/dining room, where something good smelling waited. A living space which is set up more like an office, with a desk covered in papers, open books and a laptop, than a more traditional living room. Though there is a big screen TV hanging on one wall, a small bookshelf filled with DVDs standing under it and a small couch facing that wall. Opposite the kitchen is an open doorway through which I can catch a glimpse of a hastily, and not at all well, cleaned bedroom. I assume there’s an attached bathroom where I can’t see it.

I’m ushered into the kitchen, and sat down at a small table off to one side as Lei flitts about finishing up cooking. Vases filled with wild growing flowers are crammed onto every flat surface where they won’t be in the way, which creates the feel that Lei had raided a flower shop and just run off with everything she could carry.

It comes off as kind of haphazard, honestly.

A minute or two later Lei serves two plates with a fairly simple chicken dish, rice, and mixed vegetables. A candle is placed between us on the table and lit and the lights dimmed, before she finally sits opposite me with a nervous smile.

I can’t really help but smile back at her. Especially when she only then remembers that she has wine to go with the meal and jumps up again to get it. The food is simple and good, though not fantastic, the wine is something that neither of us know enough about to judge, and the flowers are a clear example of trying too hard.

I can’t help but find that over abundance of effort adorable though.

Conversation in the beginning is more than slightly awkward. We’ve spent enough time around each other the last week or so, that most of the initial getting to know you conversations have already happened. At the same time having more personal conversations seems wrong for a first date.

We work past it quickly though. I learn that she wants to study marine conservation and, once she has enough education, wants to work with Pua to find a way to revitalize the reefs around the islands. Though I understand maybe half the words she uses, I can keep up mostly from context, and her enthusiasm is infectious enough that I don’t mind being a little lost.

I tell her a little about my magic in the most general terms, and talk about some of the people and beings I’ve met in my work for the little spirits. She laughs at my awkwardness during my first meeting with the dryads, and finds Asia as adorable as I do.

Which reminds me, I need to send her another email soon.

With the conversation flowing, dinner passes quickly. Plates are dumped into the dishwasher, candle snuffed, and we settle onto her slightly worn couch for a movie or two. As it turns out, Lei is an action movie buff, so we settle in for an evening of mindless explosions.

Though I’m warned that I’m not allowed to mock the fight scenes.

No matter how ridiculous they are.

Apparently she’s been to a movie with Ku before, and nobody has managed to keep him from heckling the ‘martial arts’ displayed on the screen. As Lei carefully and casually slides across the couch to lean into me, and pull one of my arms around her slim shoulders, I find myself wondering if there isn’t some way I could stay here after all.

It doesn’t seem like it would be too bad.

###

It’s the screams that wake me.

Pain and terror carry on the wind, and dig under my skin like fishhooks. Everything is dark, no lights are on, no moon or stars are in the sky. I can only just make out the houses and paths of the village. Trees loom out of the darkness, my mind turning them into monsters and attackers in my rush, and surrounding me I can hear the screams.

Some voices I can pick out and recognize, the children I taught to tumble, or the older children that Lei taught to surf. Villagers that I’ve helped with advice on some supernatural issue, or that helped me learn to live in the village.

I can even hear Sarah. She must have come to visit me, and now she’s caught up in whatever this is.

I have to find them.

Lei...

From behind me I hear Leimomi’s pained cry. I spin on the ball of my foot and run in the direction that I came from.

Why had I left her? I knew what would happen if I left them, so why did I do it?

Before I find Lei’s house again in the dark, I’m stopped by a figure lying in the path. I run forward and find Ku struggling to sit up. He’s battered and bruised, clearly having been in a fight, and not one he had won.

I run to help him up, and though he takes my hand he seems surprised to see me, “Ericka?” He coughs, “Why are you here? They’re looking for you, you have to leave! Run!”

“I can’t leave you!” I try to tell him, but he doesn’t listen.

Regaining his feet he pushes me forward, “Go!” He hisses at me, then vanishes into the darkness to continue his fight.

I flinch when his voice joins the screams.

I try to follow him, but I can’t find anything in the darkness. Not even the houses or the path. Blindly I stumble through the black, now not even able to see the ground under my feet.

The ache that never left me pervades everything.

How long I wander is impossible to tell. Time loses all meaning with no reference, so all I can do is chase after the screams in the dark.

The screams never seem to end.

Finally in front of me I can see a light. With a sob of relief I stumble into the lit circle.

I should have stayed in the dark.

On the far side of the lit space is Ku’s body lying face down on the ground. Standing in the center of the lit space is a man in leather armor holding a sparking and arcing rapier. Kneeling in front of him are Pua and Sarah. Both look beaten, and standing behind them is the nightmare and the dwarf with the hammer, obviously keeping the two women where they are.

It’s the devil that hunted the stray through my school when I was eight, though I’m glad that Yasu, the Yuki Onna, doesn’t seem to be here. The minotaur, though, is I discover as hands big enough to cover my arms from wrist to shoulder wrap around me and lift me off the ground.

The bull man carries me fully into the light and holds me in front of the devil king. The king smiles at me in the same way I’ve seen other men smile, when they’re trying to be charming to Sarah.

“Ericka!” He cheers when he sees me, “I’ve been looking for you. If I’d known when I first saw you what you’d grow up to be, I’d have taken you then! You have grown up to be very pretty after all.” I shiver in disgust.

“What are you going to do with us?” Pua demands, voice hard.

The devil laughs, “Me? To you? Nothing. Her on the other hand?” He raises a hand and in it is a chess piece, a queen. My blood runs cold. I thrash trying to escape the minotaur’s hold on me, but I may as well have been trying to move a mountain. I try to kick him, but he’s just out of range. Finally for lack of anything else to do, I spit at him.

It doesn’t faze him in the slightest.

Closer and closer the chess piece comes as I hyperventilate. Finally with a bright shining light escaping around the edges of the chess piece, it slides into my chest. The piece vanishes into my body, and there’s a beat, and another. Then my breathing calms and the minotaur lets me go.

I try to punch the still smiling devil in front of me, but my arm won’t move.

I try to run, but my legs won’t obey me.

“How are you feeling Ericka?” He asks, his smile widening.

“Much better my King.” I hear my voice answer, feel my mouth move, but I’m not... I didn’t intend to speak.

“Good!” He seems pleased, “Now get rid of the extras my Queen, then we can go.”

“Of course, My King.” I turn without hesitation, first to Pua. The kahuna doesn’t look at me, just keeps glaring at the King.

My punch shatters her skull, dropping her to the ground.

I step to the side, standing now in front of Sarah. She looks up at me with tears running down her cheeks, “You saw this coming.” She says in a voice that’s far too calm for the situation at hand, “You knew what they would do. Why didn’t you leave?”

Then my fist strikes her and Sarah is gone.

“Good job my Queen.” My King says from next to me. I turn to him, my lips curving into a smile, even as tears spill from my eyes and run down my face, “Now now, none of that. Come here and let me reward you for a job well done.” He wraps an arm around my waist, and pulls me flush against him before pressing his lips against mine.

Something inside me brakes.

Trapped behind my eyes I scream and scream andscreamandscreamandscream...

###

I wake with a jerk, almost panicking at the weight on my chest. I bite my lips and swallow a scream. After a moment though my mind catches up with reality. I’m laying on Leimomi’s couch, one of my legs is on the floor the other is stretched along the back of the couch. Lei is laying between my legs, her back pressed up against my front, her head pillowed on my chest. The both of us are covered in a blanket. The TV displaying the DVD’s main menu provides more than enough light for me to see that I’m still in Lei’s house. We’d fallen asleep watching the movie.

Then I had a nightmare.

I shudder at what I remember, feeling nauseous and glad that it’s already fading.

Though the ache is worse than ever.

I lay back against the couch and close my eyes again, trying not to think about the nightmares.

This is going to be a thing now isn’t it?


	20. Book 1 - And We're Back in Buisness

I wake biting back a scream, and falling off my bed. I’m lunging for...

For...

The details of the nightmare are already fading, leaving me with a vague feeling of despair. Moments later though that fades too leaving me with only more pleasant memories.

In the few days since Lei and my first date, we’ve been out twice more. Which doesn’t count our general hanging out time outside of ‘dates’. What our relationship is exactly is unclear and we largely avoided talking about it. Theoretically I’m still going to get my artifacts and leave, not to mention that I’m arguably not in my right mind at the moment. Lei is amazingly understanding about the whole thing, so instead of defining terms we focus on having as much fun as we can with each other before it all stops for whatever reason.

Kissing is something that I hope never gets old.

During the sunset walk along the beach the night before Lei had explained that proper Hawaiian night swimming is done in the nude, and when the bio-luminescent algae are plentiful. Which they had been that night. A smirk and waggled eyebrows on Lei’s part led to some time indulging in said proper Hawaiian night swimming, and an enthusiastic several hour long good night. The whole experience leaves me with some very pleasant memories, which I gladly focus on instead of whatever I’d been dreaming about.

Really it’s good that Lei is willing to spend so much time with me, as over the last several days I’ve become less and less able to indulge in my visits to the forge. The closer Vivain gets to finishing the pieces she’s making for me, the less I’m able to resist the siren call to just touch one of them. So several days ago Vivain was forced to banish me from the smithy, just to keep me from doing something I’d regret while not paying attention.

I’m beginning to understand how addicts must feel.

The constant temptation to head to the forge, just to look, is getting harder and harder to resist when I’m not occupied by anything else. Lei is more than happy to give me something else to focus on.

I also find that my morning workout gets easier to get through the less I think about what I’m doing. Another reason I’m glad last night’s memories linger on, I smile to myself as I finish going through the routine on autopilot.

I head down stairs in shorts and a tank top with a slight bounce in my step and a smile that I can’t get rid of on my lips. Not that I try very hard. I actually find myself happy recently in ways that I can’t remember having ever been before, and my soul ache while not gone, is something that I can go almost an entire day without thinking about. As long as I keep my mind off certain things, like carefully not looking at or thinking about the barely started Script on my desk, or Script at all really.

In the kitchen is a sight eerily similar to the start of my most recent stay on the islands right after the ritual. Pua and Ku are waiting for me at the breakfast table looking serious, Thea is moving around the kitchen with a pleasant smile on her face quietly humming something. The only differences really are Sarah’s absence, and that they aren’t quite as grim.

I pause in the door, “Is this another intervention?” Thea chokes softly, swallowing a laugh as Pua and Ku blink then sighe. I wish I could say I’m surprised to see the siblings pull out several bills each to hand over to Thea, but this is exactly the sort of thing I’ve learned to expect from them. Thea takes the money with a gracious smile before putting a plate of breakfast down in front of my usual seat, “Not an intervention then.” I snicker and take my seat, quickly digging in, and enjoying the siblings misfortune.

Pua sighes again and Ku faceplants into the table, “No it’s not another intervention. Vivain sent a message over this morning.” I pause looking up at the Kahuna, “She’s nearly finished, and wants to talk to you. After the conversation she’ll present you with the finished artifacts.”

I stall out completely. They’re done. Or nearly. Close enough. Now though I have to wonder if I’ll be capable of using them. I haven’t practiced at all since that first abortive attempt with Ku. The closest I’ve come was the scuffle with the soldiers in the parking lot of the hardware store. Any other time I try I just... can’t.

Can’t really fight.

Can’t really make new Scripts.

Can’t really do anything that I used to be so good at, had worked so hard for.

With every thought the ache grows worse.

Would I be able to accomplish any of my goals at all any more?

The last idea has me curling up in my chair, arms wrapped around my body, with a moan of pain. The ache is almost as bad as it had been when the pieces of my soul were first removed. I feel Pua’s hand on my shoulder and faintly hear her voice calling me to focus on her.

Slowly as I manage to shift my attention, put my previous worries out of my mind, and the pain fades to a dull throb. Finally I manage to actually focus on Pua and she sighs, relieved.

“Right. No more waiting, lets go.” She pulls me to my feet out of my chair, which is impressive given our relative heights.

“But my breakfast.” I whine reaching for it as I’m dragged away. All I get for my troubles is Pua rolling her eyes and Ku and Thea laughing at me.

Traitors.

###

“What did the Excalibur do exactly?”

“Really? You wait till now to find out what standard your own sword will be held to?”

I shrug, “I trust Pua. And right now I need the distraction.” I’m sitting in the forge for the first time in three or four days. I’m sitting on my stool again, with one of Pua’s hands on my shoulder to help keep me there. After a moment's pause I manage a small grin, “And I want to know what the standard my sword will be held to is.”

Vivain snorts. The forge is cold, and the quench tanks are pushed out of the way. Vivain sits in the middle of her smithy putting the finishing touches on what has to be my sword. The sword is two handed, the blade an odd off white color that doesn’t look like it could possibly be sharp, no matter how sharp it actually is. The cross piece is a silvery metal, the pommel a perfectly clear crystal or stone that I don’t recognize.

Behind her on a table is a suit of armor, the same off white color as the sword blade. It’s a full suit of plate and chain, with plenty of cloth as well. A skirt drapes over the leg armor and would drop to just brush the floor if the armor was upright, and instead of a more traditional helm it has a hood and what looks like a cloth face mask that could be pulled up from the gorget over the nose. Both pieces of cloth and the skirt were the same off white color as the armor. It makes me wonder if they are actually cloth at all.

Lastly a sheathed foot long knife lay next to the armor’s left gauntlet.

The Lady of the Lake holds the sword point down, pinched between her knees as she wraps black ray skin around the hilt for grip. She’s silent for a few moments, looking down while her hands continue without pause, “Excalibur is the Sword of Promised Victory, and that is what it does. The sword, when powered, warps fate and destiny, skews probability, to bring about what the wielder defines as victory. The more power the wielder puts into the blade, the larger an area is affected, and the more dramatic those effects are. When Arthur held it, nothing went right for his enemies, food spoiled, horses went lame or fled, allies were delayed or never appeared at all, and equipment was ruined. All before the armies ever set foot upon the field.

“Once they did it all got worse. The term for it now is Murphy’s Law, and Murphy lived in the enemies camp, and marched with his troops. Meanwhile Arthur's troops would spot problems before they could become such, the enemy's plans would be obvious, his generals would always be in the right place at the right time, and always get the inspiration they needed. Once a supply caravan was lost, and fresh fish fell like rain on his camp.”

I blink several times.

So Excalibur was weaponized bad luck? No, she said it herself, it was weaponized Murphy’s Law. If Murphy was biased for the home team.

“So how did Arthur lose?” I ask trying to imagine what the effects of Excalibur would look like, and how you could possibly fight such a thing? When everything you try is guaranteed to go wrong in the worst possible way, I don’t think anybody really could, which I suspect is the point.

Sword of Promised Victory, no shit.

“What makes you think he did?” I jerk my head up at that idea only to find Vivain watching me with a smirk.

“Um... he died?” I offer.

“When Arthur took the field at Camlen all of his focus was bent on preventing Mordred from taking his throne, and he was willing to give anything to see that happen. As Mordred never sat the throne of Britain, he achieved what he set out to. His willingness to give anything for his goal though meant his survival was not a condition of victory.” The fae lady finishes wrapping the hilt and lays the sword down next to the armor, on the opposite side of it from the knife, “Honestly I think that the Excalibur’s ability to twist probability into a pretzel is the only reason why those alchemical knock offs hold together.” She snorts and grumbles to herself something about real swords not coming from test tubes, then shakes herself, refocusing.

The fae smith waves me forward and I approach with caution. Oddly the burning need to touch any of the pieces in front of me has largely vanished. I can still feel a pull towards them, but I no longer need them like a starving man needs food. As soon as I stand next to her she stops me.

“You have noticed that in the last few weeks, since we began this project, that things have been much more difficult for you. Things that you used to take pleasure in or found easy you no longer do, or seem beyond your abilities now.” I flinch wondering if she would take away the artifacts now, if I have somehow become unworthy of them, “Do not fret, these phenomena are no fault of yours. What most do not know is that a soul is not homogeneous. That, like the brain, certain parts of it are responsible for certain things.”

I haven’t really thought about it but, “That’s why my trait theft Script works. I remove the part of a things essence, or soul I guess, that is responsible for a certain power or ability, and graft it onto my own. Making whatever I’ve taken available to me.”

Vivain nods, “Exactly. When I took pieces of your soul to forge into your weapons and armor, I removed parts of you. The armor is forged of your drive to succeed. That part of you that kept you fighting even when broken, that part of you that let you try, even for what most would call impossible.

“The sword is forged of your drive to improve. The part of you that looked at yourself and knew you could be more. That knew that your life, your skills, everything could be better tomorrow, if by however little, if only you worked for it. That however little that progress is, it would be worthwhile because then you could push further the day after.

“The knife was forged with a bit of your intellect, which is likely why you did not realize what removing several pieces of your soul would mean on your own.”

I stare at the... the parts of me on the table. No wonder it got harder and harder to stay away, to not touch them. No wonder I can’t accomplish anything, I’m crippled.

“Before you take them up, you have a choice to make.” Vivain says and pushes me gently back a step, “When you take these missing parts of yourself up, you will once again be as you were. The drive and focus that you lack will be returned to you.”

“What’s the question then?” I’m a little frustrated, after all this she’s stalling?

“Will you take them up?” Vivain answers.

What? “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Are you not happy now? You have a woman that could come to love you, and that you could come to love. You have a place if you stay here in this village, you are accepted and welcomed. Perhaps you could even become Pua’s apprentice in truth, as opposed to just by default. Would you be happy with this village, trusting others to keep you safe from what you know is coming if you become as you were?”

###

I stare at Vivain. Then I turn back to the armor and blades on the table. It’s true I’m largely happy now, as long as I avoid certain things. Leimomi is always fun, and I’m enjoying the time I spend with her a great deal. Pua is great, she makes learning easy, and even if I haven’t been actively studying with her I’ve absorbed a great deal of lore just by osmosis. I can easily see myself spending more time on that and becoming a Kahuna like her. I can’t learn her magic, but there are plenty of Kahuna out there that aren’t sorcerer's themselves. After all a Kahuna’s primary responsibility is to the mental, physical, and spiritual health of the people of her village; supernatural powers are not required.

They do help though.

I glance back at Vivain, who simply watches me with no expression on her face to indicate any sort of opinion, “This... ache?”

“Would eventually heal. You would never be as you were, but you would regain the parts of yourself that you lost eventually. Even if they would be different from how they were.” Vivain tells me, voice showing nothing but mild interest.

I nod, that does make the prospect more appealing. I could explore my relationship with Lei, find out if we would be as good together as it appears, if we could last. I could hang out with Sarah, do all the things that she always wanted to but I never had time for. When the parts of my soul were removed, I had the thought that I wasn’t really a person. That’s slowly changing and I find that I enjoy it.

On the other hand...

On the other hand through the last several weeks there has been one pervasive feeling that has never left.

I feel... helpless.

I can do nothing unless it’s easy or I have somebody holding my hand. I can’t protect myself, can't protect others. I doubt I could even run away from a real threat. If the mo’o were to invade now, I would die without even being able to fight back. The first injury would have crippled me unable to push through the pain. I would have probably been caught quickly unable to use each ambush as a learning experience. No ability to make each successive ambush more successful than the last.

I hate this feeling. If I had been comfortable with it I would have joined a peerage, and let some devil take care of me. Or just gone on about my mundane life like I had in my last one, ignoring the supernatural altogether.

Instead on the day of my birth I’d decided that the only thing acceptable to me is to become more than I am, more than I’m slated to be.

That inability to tolerate my own helplessness hasn’t changed, and the method of overcoming that state is sitting in front of me.

I reach forward and touch the sheathed knife, and my mind speeds up, my thoughts clearer, my memory sharper. Things snap into focus... I still don’t know why the fight in the parking lot was so different though. Even so my mind is firing on all cylinders again and it’s fantastic.

I touch the armor, and my determination returns. The off white color of the armor starts darkening, slowly fading to a deep matte black. To me though it’s as if unnoticed walls that had surrounded me, hemmed me in, have all fallen away. Pain is something to be ignored, it would fade. Impossible is a term for things that I haven’t done yet. I can almost feel the armor wrapping around my soul as the piece that I’ve been missing slot back into place. I once again have the determination to stride through all that would seek to stop me, ignoring them with the disdain they deserve. Now that drive would protect my body as much as it will ward off any thoughts of ‘I can’t’.

Finally I touch the sword. The off white blade, like the armor, fades to black, and then becomes an even deeper shade than the armor. The armor is still a thing, the sword is a cutout in the world. A light eating black that consumes all that touches it, like if Vivain had somehow pounded a black hole into the shape of a sword. That absolute blackness is only broken up by a series of faintly shining iridescent Script symbols, They almost seem to float in the void produced by the flat of the blade. As I watch, vapor begins to waft from the blade as it consumes even the ambient heat around it. At the same time the clear crystal pommel piece begins to shine with a pure white light.

As it slots into my soul the world stretches around me, my horizons pulling away. All things are possible, and I can see a path to them, how ever long that path will be, and every day is just another step along it. The impossible is only so because I do not have the growth today that I will have tomorrow. Like the sword I can once again take in everything around me, and use it to make myself more than I have been before.

I stagger backwards with a shuddering gasp. The ache in my soul is gone. Not faded, or easier to put out of mind, but gone. My body moves like I expect it to again with no soreness, and all I can think is that my last spar with Ku had been pathetic, and I’ll kick his ass next time. That there’s a Script begun on my desk, that would potentially mean I don’t really have to leave everybody behind forever, just waiting on me to take the time to finish it.

Now though Pua and Vivain catch me as I almost fall backwards, dizzy from all that has changed in my world again. It actually kind of feels like when the Lady removed the parts of myself that I just reclaimed, only instead of the disorientation leaving me weak, this time it leaves me strong.

“Are you all right?” Pua asks, sounding worried, “Do you need...”

“I’m fine. Better than fine actually. I feel fantastic.” I grin down at my friend, looking forward to testing out my new gear.

“Good.” Vivain nods with a smile, “Now though, I should tell you what you have gained.” I blink and nod. Probably best to not go into battle with something assuming it’s a rocket launcher only to discover it’s a pistol.

“Yeah...” I say, feeling a little sheepish, “That would probably be a good idea.”

Pua groans, “She’s back. Ready to run off and get into trouble with only the briefest thought as to the potential issues.”

I glare at Pua and Vivain is polite enough to ignore our byplay. Instead she moves around the table to the knife, and holds it out to me. I take it carefully and draw the knife, revealing a foot long single edged blade made of the silvery metal typical of fae smithing. The edge of the knife has a subtle double curve to it, and the first quarter of the back edge from the point is sharpened as well to facilitate better stabbing. It has a small crosspiece that curves forward towards the blade along the back, and around my fingers on the opposite side. Ever so gently I touch the edge of the knife and my finger splits open. I hadn’t felt anything, no pain, no sensation at all. Even while I watch the cut close, pain never hit.

I glance up at Vivan who’s watching me with a proud smile, “Your athame.” Athame nothing, it’s a goddamned short sword, and I love it, “Forged with a touch of your intellect, it should be much better about finding what you want in a thing when you kill it, now that it has the intelligence to help. Not that it’s smart... more like a search engine.”

I nod, and put the knife back in its sheath, stroking it gently, “Your armor.” Vivain lays a hand on the full suit, “It may be a bit difficult to put on or take off until you learn to call it back to the rest of your soul, and push it out again, but it will be excellent protection. The color changed because the armor will consume most energy that touches it that is not yours. It appears black because the light that touches it does not reflect. All the energy it takes in will be changed to mana within the armor, and fed to you to keep you fighting, though that is not its purpose. The armor will also act as a pressure valve, first storing a small amount of mana that would normally begin to overload you, then venting mana when it would otherwise do you harm. It sounds powerful, and it is, but bare in mind that it can only vent so quickly and store so much. If you take a strong enough blow, that would feed you too much energy too quickly, it will instead take the blow as normal armor does. It will still protect you, but you will feel the difference of the weight of the blow and what the armor absorbs. Also the armor does not consume all energy, it must ignore some so that you may interact with the world. The hood in addition to protecting you by lessening the energy of anything that hits you, will react to anything not yourself as though it is inch thick plate, not cloth. The hood has also been crafted so that most of your face, when it is up, will always be hidden in shadow. If you pull up the half mask attached to the gorget no one will see anything but darkness under the hood. I thought that given how some will no doubt react to your powers, it may be best to not be easily identifiable while unarmored.” She finishes with a slight smirk.

I smile back at her, I hadn’t even thought of that. It’s a nice addition, and having the... helmet substitute act like cloth to me means much more flexibility, and that my senses would be less impaired, “So if I understand you, the armor will protect me from a lot, but I may still be knocked around some, and if I take a hard enough hit I’ll still be injured.” Vivan nods with a smile, “So like any other suit of armor, just better.”

The Lady laughs, “Exactly. Now for the best.” Unlike the other two pieces she doesn’t touch the sword, and instead waves me forward, “This is Sclamhaire, the Devourer. Like the armor it consumes energy, unlike the armor it consumes all that it touches... all that is not you, and with the potential for more flexibility in that consumption. Sclamhaire holds the largest portion of your soul, and the part most prone to change. What that will allow in the future is for you to discover.” She waves for me to take it up and with a small amount of hesitation, I do.

The moment I lift the sword it connects to my tattoos and she sings to me. The light from the crystal pommel piece vanishes the moment I pick Sclamhaire up, and I can feel a small trickle of mana being fed into my network, feeding and revitalizing me. Getting a closer look at the absolute blackness of her blade, only broken only by the faintly iridescent Script symbols that seemed to float on her flats.

“No other will ever again be able to touch her without at least losing a hand, as Sclamhaire will attempt to devour them as well. For you though, as a part of you, it should act as an excellent conduit for your power.”

Taken with the thought, I feed my mana into the sword. After a moment, though she sings joyously at the touch of my power, and freely circulates the mana as though she’s an extension of my arms, nothing else occurs.

Something to play with later then.

“Is she intelligent?” I have to ask, Sclamhaire feels so much like a part of me, and the way she sings and feels eager in my hand is nothing like either the armor, the athame, or anything else I’d ever held.

“No. Or not yet. In time... who knows?” The fae smith smiles mysteriously.

“Now how about you try it all on?” Pua asks.

My smile has to be more than a little manic.

###

Pua and Vivain help me into the armor for the first time, and it is, in fact, awkward to put on. As Vivain explains it to me, when I learn to call it to and from my soul it will simply manifest on me, and vanish again when I don’t need it. Handy that, but it’s something I’ll have to learn. When I do though, the lack of extra joints and seams to facilitate the easy donning or removal of the armor will make it more protective. Until then it’s simply also slightly more of a pain.

Once I get it on though, and get the athame and Sclamhaire settled, and get to look at myself in the mirror, well it’s breathtaking.

I can't help but straighten to my full height. The solid black armor covers me completely, boots, gauntlets, and hood. The only skin showing is the tip of my nose, my lips and my chin. With the half mask up, even those vanish and nothing appears to be under the hood. Sclamhaire’s scabbard hangs on my back at an angle so that I can draw her over my right shoulder, and the athame lays across the back of my hips so that I can draw it with my left hand, in either a forward or back handed grip.

Imagining how I’ll look with the black Fallen Angel’s wings I intended to acquire... well I can hardly wait.

I can’t wait to give my new toys a test drive, though. On my back I can imagine feeling Sclamhaire vibrate with anticipation. Even better I have the perfect cathartic target to start out on.

The ability to speak all languages will come in very handy for all the traveling I’m going to be doing after all.

Somewhere out there, is a stray devil with my name on it.


	21. Book 1 - Fire Makes Everything Better

The thing I like the most about my armor so far, is that it’s light. Really, in spite of the amount of metal it contains, the moment it became a part of me again, it might as well have been made of air.

It makes running away much easier.

I’m also very glad that business districts, even in large cities, tend to be largely empty late enough at night. I don’t know how I would have explained what’s happening to a cop, or even how I would have gone about surviving with innocent bystanders in the way.

Behind me I can smell dust and ancient dried corpse, off to the right is the smell of dry scales and poison. My two pursuers, still on my tail and unlikely to give up anytime soon. As demonstrated by the sound of something large flying at me through the air.

Not that there’s any reason for them to give up. The two chasing me are pacing me with insulting ease, and taking pot shots every few steps I manage to take.

I stop my head long sprint and spin on the ball of my foot. Bracing myself just in time I catch the flying car by the roof that’s about to hit me. My fingers dig through the thin sheet metal letting me grip the car’s more solid frame. My armor absorbs most of the energy of the impact, my own strength dealing with the rest, allowing me to catch the four door sedan and only slide back a few feet.

As quickly as I can I twist around the vehicle, now improvised shield, to block the stream of acid green liquid that comes flying from my left. Once I’m sure that all of the liquid has splashed onto the undercarriage of the car I throw it aside with a grunt of effort. I only get it a couple of yards away, but that’s enough to clear the immediate area so I have some room to maneuver.

I’ll need it.

As it turns out, once I start looking for them, there are stray devils everywhere. This, plus the standing bounty that the devils have on their wayward kin, means that everybody that can, hunts the damn things as an easy source of ready cash. That means that the stupid and weak ones die rather quickly, leaving only the clever and powerful.

Clever and powerful means hard to find.

I really didn’t expect to have so much trouble running down a stray Pawn or some such. I certainly didn’t expect to have to go all the way to China to find one. And I really didn’t expect the stray devil to have a friend when I did.

Which leads me to where I am now. Standing at the bottom of a steel, concrete, and glass canyon. To my left and up, clinging to the side of one of the tall office buildings through some mechanism that I’m not going to devote any thought to, is the stray devil.

The stray devil is snakes. It’s body and head is one large snake. Sprouting off of where it’s shoulders would have been are arms that are two more snakes, it’s hands are the heads of those snakes. It has hair that’s more snakes. The only concession to whatever humanoid form it might have had, before it lost its mind and became snakes, are two lumps on it’s chest that I think are supposed to be scale covered breasts. Why it has those I’m not going to devote any thought to...

... Except I’ve decided that the next person I find particularly useless I’m going to call ‘as useful as tits on a snake’. Because they just look ridiculous, like they’d be perpetually in the way, and I can’t think of any reason for them to be there.

The stray made out of snakes clings to the building and every single one of its... her? It’s, snake heads are staring at me and hissing menacingly.

Down the street in front of me is the unexpected guest. An odd creature that looks like a shriveled corpse with fangs and glowing eyes. It’s dressed in what was once very fine silk, and a very silly hat that makes me think it’s supposed to be dressed as some sort of courtier or noble from some period of Imperial China. I don’t think it’s actually old enough to be from any period of Imperial China, otherwise instead of cars it would be ripping buildings out of the ground to throw at me.

This desiccated monstrosity is a hopping vampire, and as ridiculous as the name sounds it honestly scares me more than the made of snakes, acid and venom spitting, insane, stray devil. Hopping vampires get their name from being corpses so decayed and withered that their bodies have shriveled into uselessness. They compensate for this with truly, ridiculously, powerful telekinesis. Telekinesis with which they propel themselves in prodigious leaps. Why they don’t just fly I have no idea, the one in front of me is easily powerful enough to do so. Instead, they simply use anything around them that’s light enough, and insufficiently nailed down as a weapon. Including myself. We ended up in this running battle when I kicked in the door to what I thought was the stray devil’s lair, only to have a corpse turn to look at me. At that point I’d been flung out of the building via the nearest wall.

It had been very unpleasant.

Now though, the hyper mobile corpse is settling gently to the ground after a leap of over a city block in length, and is, somehow, glaring at me despite its lack of facial expressions. Turning my body so that I can keep both of my opponents in my field of view, I slowly draw Sclamhaire from over my shoulder. My sword immediately connects with my tattoos and begins to feed me a steady, if tiny, trickle of mana. That trickle will do more to help me stay in this fight than the surges that my armor has been giving me. Not that those rushes are unwelcome, but at the moment I have fewer ways of using them. A steady stream is much better for keeping my stamina up.

I really don’t want to fight the two of them here. I’m not just running because I walked into a fight fat, dumb, happy and gotten more than I bargained for. I have actually considered the idea that the stray devil I find would be more than I can handle in a straight up fight. Even with my shiny new gear. So I planned ahead. I set up an ambush of sorts in an out of the way alley, using Script and some... let’s call it military surplus, that a few gremlins that owe me a favor or six just happened to find.

The problem with an out of the way alley that’s unlikely to be occupied though, is that it’s out of the way, i.e. inconveniently located. This particular out of the way alley is still a few blocks away, but might as well be on the other side of the city for all the good it’ll do me. I can’t out run either of my current opponents, and between the two of them they can attack me constantly enough to significantly slow me down, enough so that I’m making practically no progress. I need to either distract them long enough to get a head start, or one of them will have to go.

Either way it means I’m fighting them here.

I take a relaxed two handed stance, my arms hanging loose and Sclamhaire’s hilt resting across my thighs. An odd moment of stillness comes over the battle as the three of us assess where the others have ended up and what we have to work with. There should have been a tumble weed or a newspaper or something blowing by, but the air is still.

Then, it very much isn’t as the three of us all start moving almost at once. I take two steps forward towards the vampire before I’m launched through the air towards the stray devil with no warning. The devil is on the ball and spits two streams of acid, or venom, from it’s two snake arms while I can’t dodge.

I respond by slashing through both streams of liquid. Sclamhaire lives up to her name and devours enough heat from both of the vibrant green blobs to freeze the dangerous liquid. Whether it’s venom or acid or both, the liquid is far less dangerous as a solid. They splash off my armor like two particularly unfortunately colored snowballs, and with about as much effect.

Honestly I’m relieved, I acted mostly on instinct. I had no idea that Sclamhaire’s energy devouring ability would work fast enough to mostly solidify the fluid projectiles. I was just trying to put something in the way.

A moment later I twist in mid air just enough to hit the building feet first. I land a few feet away from where the devil is still clinging to the building, just out of sword reach. That shows far more tactical awareness from the vampire than I was hoping for. If I’d been aimed right at the devil, I could have turned their attempt to trap me where I can’t dodge into something usefully aggressive.

As it is, I now have to figure out how to fall five stories without dying.

As my feet come away from the building and I start my trip towards the ground, I can hear odd rhythmic hissing sounds. It takes me a moment to realize that the god damned snakes are laughing at me.

I grit my teeth, and try to put the sound and how angry it makes me out of my head. I need some way to slow myself down a lot. Frantically glancing around I catch sight of Sclamhaire out of the corner of my eye.

With a short cry of effort, I manage to catch Sclamhaire’s tip in the side of the building I’m falling past. The black blade bites into concrete and steel like they’re paper, leaving a frosted gash behind. Sclamhaire cuts so well that it actually doesn’t slow me down much. It does give me a solid point to swing myself back towards the building though.

I grab my athame and drive it into the building edge up. The knife doesn’t go in with the same ease that Sclamhaire did, but it does sink in, and with the back of the athame largely unsharpened, I jerk to a sudden halt.

With a sickening pop my shoulder comes free of its socket, and I immediately lose my grip on the knife. Fortunately it stopped my momentum, even if only for a moment, allowing me to fall the remaining two stories without injury. My trollish skeleton and armor allow me to absorb the remaining impact.

No sooner have I landed, than a street sign hits me in the head. As promised my hood acts like a much more solid material, and doesn’t give a bit and the rush of mana from the impact is a welcome jump start to the healing of my arm. It still knocks me slightly off balance forcing me to take a step out to the side.

It also delays me for the half second it takes the devil to slither down five stories, and get back in my face. I slash at it once, twice, three times, with as precisely controlled cuts as I can manage off balance. Sclamhaire’s negligible weight in my hand plus my strength allows me to swing the two handed sword one handed. For all the good it does me, the devil bends and twists with impossible speed, and seems to flow around my strikes as though I’m standing still.

My attempt at offensive action having failed, I frantically try to move Sclamhaire the shortest distance possible to block the counter attack that I know is coming. The devil’s arms coil like the snakes they are, mouths open wide displaying fangs dripping venom, and rush at me with all the speed of a supernatural striking serpent.

I manage to get Sclamhaire in the way of one of the snakes, but the other hits me in the chest. It’s fangs skittered off the fae metal, and the armor absorbs a lot of the impact, but there’s enough left over that it feels like I got hit with a fast ball.

I stagger a step backwards from the hit thanks to being off balance. I hear something else large rushing towards me. So instead of counter swinging at the devil to keep it back, I spin and just manage to interpose Sclamhaire’s blade between me and a neon sign about as large as I am.

I brace myself for the impact as well as I can with only one working arm, and a poor stance, and further brace myself for the pain of the sign hitting me anyway. Both are things that never came. Instead the sign strikes the flat of Sclamhaire’s blade and just... stops.

I stare at it for what feels like several minutes, but can’t have been that long, as the sign seems to just hang there in the air. Then it falls to the ground, and I’m jerked out of my daze by the rush of mana from Sclamhaire. Mana that allows my regeneration to pop my shoulder back into place with a painful crunch, and finish healing.

I gasp for air, and have just enough awareness to register the sound of a many snake shaped object flying through the air at me, all heads and mouths pointed forward and open. Through the unexpected pain in my shoulder I do the only thing I can think of and drop to the ground, letting my legs go limp under me.

Fortunately for me, my desperate dodge works, and the snake devil goes flying over my head, though my hood brushes belly scales as it goes by. The thing is unfairly fast, and I can’t really afford to lay here and catch my breath. Any time I’m in one place for any length of time, and the snake isn’t in the way, my vampiric dance partner beams me with something.

So far it has failed to miss.

I roll away from the snake and, as expected, a street light is rammed into and through the asphalt where I had just been. I get to my feet as quickly as I can, and start sprinting again, this time though at the building I had just fallen off of, and where my athame is still lodged into a wall.

Behind me I can hear the snake gaining, but fortunately it’s jump has carried it far enough past me that I have the time to make a leap of my own. Vampiricly enhanced troll muscle allows me to clear a single story with that leap. So my foot first touches a solid surface at the bottom edge of the second floor of the office building. Parkour provides me the next step as I push off and up, and start running up the side of the building. I can only make three, maybe four steps like this, but that’s all I need.

I start to lose my footing on the third step but, with a stretch of my newly healed left arm, I manage to wrap gauntleted fingers around the hilt of my knife. A one armed pull up gets my feet under me again which is good because the devil is right behind me.

I’ve been tracking it by sound as it closes and decides to take its own leap. It skips the first and most of the second floor completely, and launches itself right at where it knows I will be. Which works out just about perfectly for me. Just as they had tried to do to me, in the air the devil’s speed means nothing as it can’t move to evade.

I push off the building, jumping straight at the stray devil and ripping my athame out of the wall. Leading with a slash from Sclamhaire, my sword decapitates both of the devil’s arms where they were lunging at me again. Which leaves a path clear for my knife to plunge straight into its chest, as I practically shoulder check the beast out of the air.

What I want from this kill is clear in my mind. So as we hit the ground, the devil thoughtfully cushioning my fall, I feel the Script on my athame trigger. A trait is ripped free of the stray, and slides smoothly through my tattoos and into my soul. I’ll have to get better at this, the feeling of my Self altering leaves me stunned for several seconds.

Fortunately for me the vampire also seems to be stunned.

It only takes me a moment to shake off what feels like a minor alteration, and a new small, but constant, drain on my mana. Slowly I push myself to my feet wincing at the aches from falling a couple of stories and not landing well. Nothing too bad and I have plenty of mana from the fall so what bruises made it through my armor are already fading.

The vampire is standing where he landed at the beginning of this scuffle. It takes me a moment to process what I’m seeing, but it looks like he’s trembling. Or maybe the air around him is vibrating?

A howling screech fills the air, one so loud that all the glass on the street trembles. The howl should have been just noise, but I can perceive words, or at least a word, “Eudocia!”

I... have no idea what that means. Which given what I just gained, I’m assuming understanding words that previously I wouldn’t have even recognized as language means that my Allspeak is working just fine, means that it’s probably a proper name.

I glance down at where the snake devil that had been cohabitating with the vampire lay, minus two of its heads and plus a new hole in its chest, is already beginning to dissolve.

I think I may have made him angry...

Then I’m in motion. It feels like my internals have just decided to accelerate to the right, and take the rest of me along for the ride as an incidental. The office building stops my travel, compressing my insides against my spine and the inside of my rib cage. It hurts like hell and I’m very glad that my armor has fed me plenty of mana for healing. Now if only the vampire would let me go, so I can actually get to that healing thing.

Instead I’m again yanked by my guts, and slammed into the street again, then into the opposite building, then down onto a car. Right he isn’t letting go of me. This hurts like hell, and is doing more damage than I’d like, if not as much as the vampire wants. I take a moment to lament my lack of ranged offensive options, and swear to myself that I’ll put the time and effort into my Siren’s voice to make it effective in combat.

If I can’t attack him to make him stop yanking me around by my intestines, I’ll just have to make him lose his grip. Fortunately I have something that I’m pretty sure will work for that.

I’m not here.

I vanish from all senses, and the vampire’s telekinetic grip vanishes as well. I roll off the thoroughly pancaked sedan, and onto the sidewalk, letting go of my glamor and sheathing Sclamhaire and the athame. The car provides adequate cover to hide from the vampire, but this isn’t really a long term solution. It’s a necessary stop gap while I wait for my guts to finish healing though.

On the street, I can hear a human sized and shaped object soaring through the air to set down gently next to where the devil is still in the process of dissolving away. The vampire doesn’t move after that, it just stands there. If it were capable, I think it would have knelt next to what’s left of the rapidly vanishing body, but bending in any way would probably snap the animate corpse in half.

At this point I can probably just leave. Use my glamor to escape notice and just go. I’ve got what I came for, after all. No reason to fight this thing too...

I hear a cracking sound that I can’t really place. After a few moments of being puzzled, I realize it’s coming from the area where the vampire is standing. I lean down peering under the car, I noticed idly that it’s the same car I used as a shield against the snake devil. I also see the asphalt of the road under the vampire begin to crack and crumble in a slowly expanding circle around him. Being a desiccated corpse it has neither expressions, nor scent, to give away it’s emotional state, but I feel comfortable in guessing that it’s pissed.

I can run, and not fight the angry vampire... but it’s an undead monstrosity that hunts people down late at night and suffocates them, drawing out their breath as its method of draining victims of life energy. Beyond that, I’ve seen this thing in action. It’s powerful, though not ancient. It’s also extremely accurate with its telekinesis, and clever. If it decides to go on a rampage, it’s fast and powerful enough that it can probably depopulate several decently sized neighborhoods. Especially given how long it would take before anybody actually capable of stopping it would be able to get here.

That would be a lot of people dead because I took out its... girl friend? I try not to think about how that would work, and move on. I take another peek over the car to see that pieces of debris are now being picked up and launched away from the vampire. Debris with enough force behind them to take chips out of the concrete buildings.

It certainly looks like it’s going to start venting it’s anger. The image of Sarah, settling in to go to sleep in her parents' house, only to have an SUV come flying through her bedroom wall because of a pissed off vampire, fills my mind.

...Fuck it. Telekinesis is on my wish list anyway.

The bruising on my internal organs has healed, so I reapply my glamor and try to get to the vampire. The trick is getting close, without getting hit by any of the many flying rocks that might give me away. I end up doing my best impression of a Hollywood fem-fatal dancing through a laser grid. I think I manage pretty well, but when my glamor fads as I get ready to actually strike, I’m immediately blasted down the street.

I hit the ground and rolled several times before stopping. I’m beginning to feel a little battered even through the armor. So with a groan I pull myself to my feet and face my enemy.

...I regret everything.

Cars, dumpsters, street signs, traffic lights, decorative trees, even hunks of buildings are in the air and flying towards me at high speed. A howl carrying the word, “DIE!” to my ears comes with them.

Definitely pissed it off.

I duck sideways avoiding a street sign, then have to dive over a low flying bench. Rolling sideways to avoid a dumpster, I pull Sclamhaire from my back just in time to block a truck arcing down on me from above. Like with the sign earlier though, the truck strikes Sclamhaire’s flat and stops dead. No impact, no strain, just stopped.

Well, the truck is stopped, causing a flood of mana rushing into me from Sclamhaire as the truck stays in the air and continues pressing down on me. A flood that grows in size as another dumpster ramms into the back of the truck. Then it increases again as a chunk of building hits the back of the dumpster.

Three large, heavy objects constantly pressing down on me, all lined up in a row as the vampire tries to pound me like a stubborn nail. I’m having flashbacks to the last time I fought vampires as the mana just keeps on coming, without me being able to do anything about it. There have only been a few seconds since I stopped the truck, and I can already feel my mana channels growing full and beginning to strain.

Just as it’s beginning to hurt, a portion of the mana is siphoned away. It’s only a momentary reprieve though as the flow of mana doesn’t abate in the slightest. I’m starting to think that I’ll have to do something before the influx of mana starts hurting me, when two armatures snap out of the back of my armor.

I’m momentarily confused, but then from the bottom of the armatures energy rushes violently into the air. The pressure on my mana system immediately eases as what would have been overflowing from my channels is instead drawn away by my armor and vented from my back. I take a moment to glance sideways into one of the dark plate glass windows in the office buildings surrounding me, and I’m rather surprised with what I see.

A skirted and hooded figure stands in black armor, a sword beyond black held in its hands holding back a mountain of debris, and straight out from its back arch two brilliantly shining wings, of harsh white light.

Exactly what kind of angel I look like I have no idea, but it’s fucking awesome.

As incredible as the look is though, it isn’t really solving my problem. I’m pinned down, and the vampire can just keep on hammering heavy objects onto the end of this odd conga line it’s set up until either something overwhelms me, or I explode from mana overload. Even if my armor can keep up with the growing amount of incoming mana indefinitely, which I doubt, I’m not getting anywhere.

I still have my ambush site, if I can just break away from direct combat long enough to start running again. That would involve the vampire letting up on me though. If only for a second. The last time I had been pinned down by something powerful enough to keep me from even attempting to fight back, I screamed at it. That ended up working out pretty well for me.

If it worked once it’s worth trying again.

I still can't do any of the really fancy tricks that the Sirens can do, but I can be loud and destructive with the best of them. A long inhale both takes in air, and provides me a physical action to help move my mana into my throat. When I can’t take in any more air, or press any more mana into my voice box, I scream.

Every piece of glass in range shatters explosively. Paint peels off the truck in front of me. The asphalt of the road spider webs out in a cone in front of me. Best of all my scream is accompanied by a howl from in front of me. A howl that carries no words, but instead expresses a very physical pain. I’m beginning to think that even though it’s nothing but a desiccated corpse physically, the vampire still has vampirically enhanced hearing.

Sucks to be that guy.

The chain of telekinetic projectiles drops to the ground with a thundering crash. The vampire’s attention is suddenly, and completely, occupied by the horrible pain stabbing into whatever passes for it’s brain through its ears. For just a moment I’m entirely free to act with no interference. So in accordance with my brilliant plan, I spin on the ball of my foot, re-sheathing Sclamhaire, and run.

Only moments later my armor reduces my internal mana to something that I can hold without strain or damage. The moment it has, the vented energy that forms my brilliant wings evaporates, and the armatures snap closed, vanishing into my back plate.

I know the moment the vampire has regained its wits, as large objects started flying at me again. I dodge as best I can and manage to avoid the larger ones. The little things, rocks, shards of glass, and on one occasion a red cylindrical mailbox, still manage to hit me though.

None of them break my stride, so they don’t really matter. I run as hard and as fast as I possibly can, but as before it makes no difference. The vampire hops along behind me, it’s soaring leaps easily keeping pace. It can probably out pace me if it puts any effort in at all.

I really need some way to jump start my speed the same way I used the trolls to jump start my strength. I am faster than any Olympic sprinter, and I can keep it up forever, and that means absolutely nothing in the face of actual supernatural speed.

Something I can think about later though, I finally spot the out of the way dead end alleyway where I set up my one woman ambush.

I swerve to avoid another car, and dart into the alley. Desperately I reach for any last hidden reserves of speed that may have been hiding somewhere in my body. I have to be at the very end of this alley before the vampire catches up with me. Otherwise this will get very unpleasant for everybody, instead of just my pursuer.

Fortunately for me the vampire seems to like keeping some distance. It stays in line of sight, but a distance away from it’s opponent. So as I reach the walled off end of the alleyway I stop my head long sprint, nearly crashing into the wall, and turn to face back the way I came. My breath sounds harshly in my ears as I wait, counting the seconds, until finally the vampire drops down in front of the narrow corridor between two solid concrete walls.

The air around it begins to tremble again, and I think it’s about to try talking to me. Probably to try and verbally torment me now that it thinks it has me trapped, but honestly I’m not interested in listening to it.

I bite my lip hard, spit the blood onto the beginning of the Script story, and sing a single harsh word. Already primed Script, hanging just on the edge of activation, lites up all along and just outside the alley, and several things happened almost at once.

First a Script barrier snaps up closing me off from the rest of the alley. Then two lines of script that stretch just far enough to bracket the vampire activated, and yank it into the alley itself. Finally the alleyway explodes into sound and fury as the claymore mines and Script bombs that line the length of the alley, detonate just as the vampire comes in line with them.

Moments after I set everything off, a shredded husk of half a torso and head thump into the Script barrier that kept me safe from the explosions. A moment later the barrier flickers and dies, its purpose served, leaving everything that’s left of the vampire waiting at my feet.

Script traps are something that I don’t have a lot of opportunities to use, as usually I don’t have the chance to prep the battle field in advance. Either because I don’t know the fight is coming, or because I don’t have access before the fight starts. When I do however, damn if they aren’t effective.

The vampire isn’t dead, even after all of that though. Green sparks of light still burn in its eye sockets. Hopping vampires, being subject to decay, rely less on their physical bodies than more classic vampires. Give it a few minutes, maybe an hour at the outside, to pull itself together somewhat, pun intended, and it would be able to leave the alley to find prey. After it suffocates a few people for their life energy, it would be well on its way back to its former mummified glory.

Pulling free my athame I drive it into the vampire’s chest, pinning it to the concrete. Keeping a good grip so the connection to my tattoos is solid, I pull a lighter out of my skirt with my other hand. A few tries gets the zippo lit, and I set the thing on fire.

If you aren’t sure how to kill something, fire is usually a pretty good bet.

Most things die if you set them on fire.


	22. Book 1 - Tengu Troubles

Burning vampire produces a remarkably warm, and nice flame. I kinda wish I had marshmallows. Unfortunately I hadn’t expected the night to end in fire, possibly naive of me, and I’m rapidly running out of time.

As soon as the devil died, anything they might have been doing to keep our scuffle from the notice of the mundane authorities went with them. So now the sound of sirens fill the air and reminds me, rather uncomfortably, that I have a deadline. The desiccated corpse of the hopping vampire burnes rather quickly, but even a shredded human torso has a lot to burn.

Still I can’t exactly go anywhere until the soon to be re-dead thing pinned to the concrete by my knife finishes dying.

I’m having uncomfortable flashbacks to the trolls.

I can hear the sirens stop and, thanks to my improved hearing, I can tell they stopped a few blocks away, where the fight between me and the two monsters had really started. The sound of voices drift to me, understandable for the first time since I arrived in this country, trying to figure out what’s happened.

It’s not everyday you find cars, trees, and chunks of building ripped free and hurled down the street.

The vampire continues to burn as the cops walk the trail of destruction and begin approaching the alley way. I’m feeling amazingly good after that fight. My armor is keeping a steady trickle of power into me from where my hand is in the fire produced by the corpse, so I have no trouble making myself invisible when the officers reach the mouth of my alleyway.

I’m not here.

The two in dark blue uniforms look and smell somewhat shocked at the amount of damage that’s been done in our brief fight. Then one turns and catches sight of the alley. He walks to the mouth then stops, his mouth drops open as he plays his flashlight over the dark alley.

“What the hell happened here?” He asks loud enough for his partner to hear.

“Well that is what we’re supposed to figure...” The second cop started over when his partner began talking, and trails off as he comes even with the other officer, “World war three?” He offers after a moment of stunned silence.

I can’t really fault the theory. I had explosives, both mundane and Script, packed about one per square foot lining the alley front to back, top to bottom.

Had it been over kill?

Debatable. The vampire was still alive after they’d gone off, after all. Which is what I wanted more or less, but it also means that there hadn’t been any kill at all, so I don’t see how it could be...

My mental rambling is interrupted by the vampire finally giving up, the corpse has taken enough damage that it can no longer contain life. Even life as dubious as that which belongs to hopping vampires.

Still my new telekinesis settles into my soul, which means it’s time for me to go. Keeping my glamor up I leap, and bounce off the alley wall so I can clear the two cops without risking bumping into one of them. Once I’m in the street I take a glance back in the direction of the fight, and winced slightly.

The street is wrecked for about three blocks. Cars are punched through buildings several stories up, the street is shattered in several places and trees, benches, chunks of concrete, and all sorts of other debris are scattered across it. It looks like a tornado touched down and wandered for a few blocks.

Definitely time to leave.

Fortunately, before I kicked off this mess, I planned ahead. One of those plans had been the trap in the alleyway. However I also have a plan for if the copious explosives failed to kill whatever happened to be chasing me. Granted that plan is basically ‘run away’, but an exit strategy is always a good thing to have.

A few more blocks away from where the alleyway is, and down a few side streets is a small, but very old, park. That park consists of a small grass field, a sandbox with a small jungle gym set in it, and at the back of the park a grove of trees even older than the park. A grove that comes with equally old dryads. How old the trees are I don’t know, dryads while not dumb don’t really process time the way humans do.

Or at all really.

These dryads agreed to hold a getaway bag for me, shelter me, and help me escape should it be needed. Escape isn’t the word I’d use for my current situation, but I still need to get to Japan, and I don’t really have documentation of me entering China. I could have gotten some, but it didn’t really seem worth the effort.

I get out of sight of the cops, and drop my glamor before breaking into a jog. My armor is delightfully silent as I run, and only a minute or two later I arrive at the park and, once I’ve shown my face by pulling down my hood, I’m greeted in typical dryad fashion.

I am pleased to discover that kissing is still enjoyable, even without pieces of my soul missing.

Once they’re done, and the grove leader snuck in a second slightly less quick hello, they led me into the grove, and sat me down, “Your hunt was successful then?”

I nod, leaning back against one of their trees, only to discover that the dryad that tree belongs to has decided to be my backrest instead, “Yeah, um...” I start only to be distracted slightly when my backrest starts to hum quietly and take apart my braid by running her fingers through my hair. It’s remarkably distracting, and feels quite nice. After a moment though, I manage to pull my attention back to the others who seemed quite amused at my situation, “Yeah, almost too successful. The devil had a... live in boyfriend? I don’t know, she was living with a hopping vampire that objected to my plans with force.” I shrug slightly, “I ended up using my trap on him.” All the dryads nod at that. They probably heard the boom from here.

“Did you gain from this unexpected trial?” The leader of the grove asks me. I nod again, and reach for the new spiritual mechanism I gained. Focusing on a random leaf, something that I don’t think I can really do any damage with when I inevitably fucked this up, I try to make it move.

The feeling is odd, almost like pulling a bowstring, only not. I’m adding something to the leaf in trying to lift it, though it hasn't moved yet. Then I release the metaphorical bow string, and what I added twists and expends in a moment, sending the leaf rocketing up into the air.

As much as a leaf is capable of rocketing, anyway.

The dryads and I all stare up at where the leaf had vanished from view. For a long moment nobody moves, then our gazes lower again as one. They all stare at me. I look wide eyed back. After another moment of silence I shrug, “It’s a work in progress?”

That seems acceptable as the dryads start moving around again, and the grove leader moves on, “Then this was an opportunity, one you made good use of. I assume that you still want passage to Izanami’s children?” Spirits, especially older ones, often have odd ways of referring to things. In this instance a roundabout way to refer to the Japanese islands that the goddess Izanami had supposedly, literally given birth to.

Hell, for all I knew it’s true. Gods do weird things when it comes to reproduction. Another reason to avoid them as much as possible.

“That would be great.” I tell her with a smile, “Though I’m in no rush. If you’re willing I’d like to take the night to rest and deal with your request in the morning before I leave.” I have no idea how they were going to get me to Japan if I needed to leave in a hurry, but I can only imagine that it would be infinitely more comfortable if they took their time.

The grove leader smiles back at me and nods, “That is acceptable. We have the bag you left with us,” One of the younger dryads brings my duffel, setting it next to me, “and you are welcome to our hospitality, none will find or trouble you here.”

“Would you like help with your armor?” The dryad still acting as my backrest purrs in my ear.

I blush and shift slightly, “Um... yes actually. I kind of need it.”

I know what the dryad is offering, but honestly my armor is not designed to come off or get put on in a normal fashion. I really do need an extra set of hands, or two, to get it off in any kind of reasonable time frame.

After we manage, I get into something more comfortable, accompanied by a few wolf whistles from the dryads, but I’m too tired to really pursue anything. Mostly I just want to sleep.

I don’t have a sleeping bag, but it turns out I don’t need one. Four dryads cuddle up to me, one I’m pulled into leaning against, one snuggled into me on each side, and one lay down on top of me. It’s a little strange, but surprisingly warm and comfortable.

I can definitely think of worse places to sleep.

###

I wake up in a pile of scantily clad tree spirits, and to the sound of giggling. I groan, which causes sympathetic groans to echo from my sleeping companions, and force my eyes open to look around. I can’t really see much without moving somebody, so I start trying to gently extract myself from the dryads without waking any of them.

I fail dismally.

Hospitality in a dryad grove comes with breakfast. The meal is entirely made of fruit and nuts, but it’s good and filling. As soon as I’m fed I settle in to begin paying the dryads back for agreeing to shelter me against a stray devil. Even if it’s only as long as it takes to get me somewhere else, it’s a pretty big deal for the little spirits.

What they asked for is a Script to help protect them from the city’s ongoing plans for urban development. So using my athame, I carve a Script into flat river rocks that should make hurting anything within the defined bounds utterly unthinkable. People will justify the feeling to themselves however will make sense to them, but if it works the way I want it to, people just won’t want to do anything to inconvenience the dryads.

While I work, I continue to hear the giggling that had woken me up, and generally the sounds of a small child at play. I don’t really think about it much as there was a park outside the grove, the local neighborhood must make use of it.

I had time to work out the script while I was waiting for the gremlins to acquire the claymores for me, so it only takes a couple of hours to do the actual carving. It wouldn’t have taken that long, but working Script now that I have Allspeak is different.

The new ability doesn’t grant me instant knowledge of the entirety of The World Script. There are several symbols that I haven’t been able to interpret from various scanning Scripts I’ve done, that I still can’t understand. What I already know, thought, is set more firmly in my memory, and comes together more intuitively. I’ve been able to speak Script like an actual language fluently since working on my tattoos, but now it feels like English does to me. Like I had been born speaking it.

Puzzling out the new feeling slows me down, but once I get used to it Scripts should come smoother and quicker.

I’m finishing up when the grove leader comes and sits in front of me. She patiently waits while I finish carving the symbol I’m working on. When I finish I look up at her with a smile.

“We have secured your passage. A Sylph has agreed to carry you in her breeze,” The dryad tells me, and I can’t help but groan.

I hate working with Sylphs.

“Let me finish up, then you can introduce me.” I tell the dryad with a sigh. She smiles sadly at me and heads towards the edge of the grove. I turn back to my work and try to lose myself in it.

It takes another twenty minutes for me to finish all the carving needed for the Script. Then another ten to place the stones and activate the Script. All the while I do my best to ignore the five year old girl playing in the park behind me.

I’ll have to deal with her soon enough.

Done with the stones I stand up and brush my hands off, “There. Nobody who actually looks at your trees should be able to bring themselves to hurt them. How it’ll work at more steps removed I can’t say.” I shrug.

The grove leader nods and seems pleased, “Now it is time for our side of the bargain.” She turns and leads me towards the little girl in the park, and I brace myself for what’s coming next, “This is the Sylph that has agreed to carry you.”

I look down at the spirit in the shape of a little girl, and she looks up at me. Her skin has a faint white tinge to the otherwise healthy color, her hair is white and drifts around her head like a trailing cloud, and her eyes are a solid sky blue.

She is, in a word, adorable.

Which is why I hate working with Sylphs.

Slyphs are the spirits of breezes, the same way dryads are the spirits of trees. And like dryads live as long as their trees do, Sylphs live as long as their breezes do. I don’t think any Sylph has ever lived longer than a couple of weeks. They’re all so relentlessly cheerful about it though, trying to play and enjoy as much as they can for as long as they have. They’re proof that ‘supernatural’ doesn't mean ‘better’, and a tragedy that I’ve never really been able to ignore.

This Sylph is no different, and she looks up at me with a huge excited grin. I kneel down to get closer to her level and get glomped around the neck for my trouble.

“Oh, I’m so excited! I can’t wait! I’ve never flown over the ocean before! The air moves so different and there’s actually an end to the water! Did you know that?”

I manage a weak chuckle, and pat the girl on the back, “Yeah I did. It’s why I asked for help to get there.”

“You can count on me!” She lets go of me and puffs out her chest with pride, “I’ve never flown with anybody before, but I’m sure I’ll do fine! So does that mean we can fly now? Can we can we canwecanwe?” At each ‘can we’ she rises a little bit further into the air until she’s at eye level with me standing up.

“Just let me get my things. Then we can go,” I tell her, and head back to the grove to collect my duffel bag.

“Then we can fly~!” She sings spinning in the air, and following me into the grove.

It takes longer than I would have liked to be ready, as I have to stuff my armor and Sclamhaire into the duffel along with my minimal travel supplies. Once I have though, I return to where the Sylph is dancing and humming to herself, which interestingly sounds like a breeze through the trees.

“So how do we do this?” I ask, catching her attention.

Instead of answering the little spirit runs up and flings her arms around my neck. She giggles, and then everything is gentle movement and rushing wind...

What feels like only moments later I’m deposited in a soccer field, perched atop a skyscraper. The Sylph sticks around long enough for an enthusiastic goodbye, and then flits off to whatever catches her attention next. Honestly I’m just as happy about that. I don’t know how long it’s taken us to get here, but at the speed a breeze moves at, a few days wouldn’t be an unreasonable assumption. Which means the Sylph could die at any moment. I’ve already seen one of the relentlessly cheerful little spirits weaken and fade back into air in my arms. I really don’t need to see it again.

Around me the city of Kyoto spreads out as much as it can. In the distance I can just make out where the old Imperial Palace still stands, while over the rest of the city a sort of reverse sunset paints the underside of the clouds with neon lights. I feel kind of excited, and I can’t wait to get to work.

Just as soon as I figured out how to get off this skyscraper.

###

I came to Kyoto for a very specific purpose. I’m headed into canon at a sprint now, and that means dealing with the power levels that canon brings with it. Not something I’m remotely prepared for.

My shortcomings in comparison to the people I’ll be dealing with are manyfold. I’m not strong enough, fast enough, powerful enough, or skilled enough to survive in the thick of the coming conflicts. About the only thing that I have going for me is that with both telekinesis, and the Siren's voice I’m far more versatile than most of the canon cast. That won’t help me much though.

Most of these problems are largely beyond my ability to fix in any sort of reasonable timeframe. Power will come with time, or luck. Speed and strength likewise. Skill can only come with time.

However unlike the others there is something I can do about how much time skill will take. Something that’s also easily accessible. Relatively. Talent can be defined as the time it takes to learn something. The more talent one has, the faster one learns. Mundane talent isn’t something I’m sure I can steal though. It feels a little too close to knowledge. It isn’t, but I’m still not sure.

Fortunately there are other options.

Somewhere in this city is a hidden forest full of Yokai. These Yokai are led by a nine tailed fox called Yasaka. Yasaka has a daughter that I know will be kidnapped, and probably soon. At least soon enough that the planning for this bit of treason has to already be in the works. A great many of the Yokai involved in the coup are of a species called Tengu, or crow demons. Tengu are known to have a supernatural talent with all edged weapons. The punishment for treason is pretty much universally death. If I expose the attempted kidnapping before it can happen, Yasaka might be inclined to give me one hell of a boon.

Mundane talent I’m not sure I can steal, but supernatural gifts I’m absolutely sure I can.

And if a lot of Tengu are going to be executed anyway?

Well I’ll get a lot of supernatural talent, and hopefully make a new friend in the process.

This won’t make me the equal of warriors that have been fighting for thousands of years, but it will help me narrow the gap faster.

Hopefully fast enough to live through what’s coming.

###

So.

What do I know about this kidnapping?

First, the target is something like nine years old at the time of canon, which means she’s seven or eight now.

Second, the operation is put on by the Khaos Brigade. Maybe a specific faction of it... I can’t really remember. What matters though is there’s only a small number of outside operators.

Third, the majority of the forces involved in the coup are Yokai. I specifically remember a lot of Tengu being involved. I think there’s a Rakshasa as well. Or some sort of tiger demon thing.

What I can infer from this is that there’s some central place where the planning for this has to happen. You don’t subvert wards like what’s guarding the hidden Yokai forest, plus some decent chunk of the native forces on a whim. A lot of planning has to have gone into making this kidnapping work.

Further, that central location has to be somewhere outside of the forest’s protections. Planning to kidnap the Yokai leader’s kid, inside the Yokai’s forest, would be like doing the planning to assassinate the President inside the White House. It would be a profoundly stupid and unnecessary risk that could only end poorly.

I try not to assume my enemies are stupid.

I’m just hoping that their HQ is still inside the city. I suppose it could be anywhere, but inside Kyoto makes more sense to me. Turncoats won’t have to do anything suspicious to report in. Everything they need to keep track of is right here, and in a city with the population of Kyoto there’s absolutely no chance of standing out. So somewhere in this city is a nice place with all the evidence I’ll ever need to prove what they’re up to.

I just need to find it.

My plan to do this is simple. Hopefully simple enough to work. The people involved in this will have to report in regularly, both to keep information up to date for planning, and to be told what to look for. Since I know there are a lot of Tengu involved in this, I’ll use Script to track their movements through the city. After a wait while patterns develop, I’ll check out anywhere that Tengu tend to frequent.

I’ll get a lot of false positives, sure, but I’m not exactly running on a close deadline.

So the first thing I need is a sample of Tengu, so I know what to track.

###

First step of finding Tengu is finding a place where I know they’ll be. So finding the hidden forest, and the established entrances and exits. The problem with that is getting through the illusions of at least one nine tailed fox. Probably a whole lot more than one, given how long the forest has been there. Given that nine tails are supposed to be the only creatures that can match Tuatha de Dennan, the folks that I got my own illusion ability from, in the field of illusions I have no hope of pulling that off.

Fortunately I don’t have to. Operating on the assumption that they aren’t using something like my conceptual ‘I’m not here’ illusion and are instead creating an illusion of something’s presence as opposed to its absence, I should be able to detect the mana used in maintaining them.

As it turns out I’m sort of right. I can’t find the forest, but the entrances, which have to be holes in the protections to let people in and out, stand out like bonfires. Which might sound like a weakness, until you see the damn things. They’re layered with sheets and nets of mana hundreds deep. I have no idea what all of them do, but each one is powerful individually and together I really don’t want to poke them.

Then there’s the physical security, each entrance is disguised as something utterly mundane. Shops that actually work, and sell what they advertise, so that they attracted no attention. That the people working in those shops and businesses are actually all decently powerful Yokai, ready to murder the shit out of anything or body that they think looks even the slightest bit suspicious at a moments notice?

Yeah, I’m not letting any of them even see me until I’m ready to present myself to Yasaka.

Which is why I’m on the roof of a building a block away from the flower shop I’m staking out. I’m about four stories up and relying on my hawk eyes to get a good look at anybody going in or out. So I shouldn’t be attracting any attention.

I hope.

While I wait, I play with my new telekinesis, and I think I’m beginning to get a handle on how it works. When I pull back that metaphorical bow string I’m adding potential energy to an object. When I let go of the string, that potential energy immediately decays into kinetic energy in whatever direction I want the object in question to move.

Which really explains a lot of what’s been confusing me about the damned hopping vampire. First off, it got around my armor because this brand of TK has nothing passing from point A to point B. The vampire simply added energy to me, not my armor, and since then the energy is nominally mine, the armor did nothing about it. It has to let me move after all. Same deal later when, since it doesn’t have to reach through anything, it just added the energy to my intestines.

Similarly why the vampires hop instead of fly. Clearly it’s possible to create a sustained force, the vampire had done it after all with it’s conga line of truck, dumpster, and building chunk. I will admit without shame though, that I have no idea how it could be done. And seeing as that’s the only time the vampire did it, I assume it isn’t easy.

Which is why I decide to start with juggling.

Turns out juggling isn’t easy either.

I have a pebble that I’m trying to keep in the air by repeatedly launching it with my TK. The idea is to catch and bounce it up again before it hits the ground. That hasn’t happened yet, though. I am slowly getting better at judging how much mana to sink into any individual act of TK to get what I want. At least in terms of how far I fling a pebble.

I’m so focused on my attempt at juggling, that I almost miss my target. The man in question is wearing baggy cargo pants, a sweatshirt, and a dust mask. The style is the sort of thing I’d expect from American wanna be gangsters. The sort of people who have to hold their pants up manually, because getting something that fits is apparently beyond them.

It’s the dust mask that catches my attention though.

Masks like that aren’t exactly uncommon to see in Japan. From what I can tell people wear them when they’re sick, but their cultural work ethic won’t let them take a sick day. So they wear the masks to try and keep their cold, or whatever, from spreading around.

I’m not sure how well it works, but it’s the thought that counts?

This mask though, has an unusual bulge in the top center of it’s cheap fabric. Exactly where the man’s nose should be. Tengu, when in human form, universally have a nose of the sort that makes me think that Cyrano de Bergerac was a Tengu in exile. So a man walking out of the Yokai’s hidden forest, with a face covering that still hints at more nose than is typical?

I’m pretty comfortable making a leap of faith at this point.

I had to leave my armor at my motel. Walking around in mat black metal armor that makes me look like the grim reaper, would be the opposite of subtle. Sclamhaire I put in a generic carrying case that’s probably meant for posters or something, and the athame rests in it’s sheath in it’s normal place at the small of my back.

The armor though has to stay at the motel. It’s honestly kind of uncomfortable to have it that far away from me. Like an overstretched muscle, only it’s my soul.

I’m getting pretty tired of learning all the different ways my soul can hurt, but until I figure out how to store at least my armor with the rest of my soul, needs must.

Still, I’m armed and mobile, which is all I really need.

I run across the rooftop and leap across an alley to the next building. Moving quickly I catch up with my suspected Tengu, and kept pace with him. Eventually he’ll end up someplace without witnesses, and I’d be able to mug him for a feather or something.

Possibly not the friendliest plan, but the Tengu will be mostly unharmed and I’ll get what I need. Hell, for all I know this is one of the rebels on his way to their HQ. I doubt it, I’m not that lucky, but he could be.

For now though it’s just a game of follow the leader.

###

Telekinesis is both great for parkour, and embarrassing as hell until I figured out how to calibrate the damn thing. Being able to launch myself over jumps I’d never be able to make on my own is great, and surprisingly easy to do.

Sure I overshot and undershot a lot at first, but I get better each time and pretty quickly I land at least roughly where I want to. On the other hand landings are somewhat trickier. Getting the perfect angle and amount of energy to slow myself for a safe landing, and not send myself pinwheeling across the roof in an uncontrolled tumble is not as easy as it looks, and it doesn’t look easy.

Not that, that happened.

At all.

Ever.

There’s no video evidence, nobody can prove anything.

I make my way across the Kyoto skyline with more ease than I have any right to, and manage to not lose my Tengu in the process. It’s close once or twice, but I manage.

The game of follow the leader finally ends as the, suspected, Tengu takes up residence at the mouth of an alleyway in a thoroughly middle class part of town. The buildings surrounding us are in the majority apartment complexes. The sort of places that would be too expensive for college students or entry level positions, but don’t require a middle management salary to afford.

The buildings are also all ten plus stories tall, which is a bit more height than I want to have to cross in a hurry. Fortunately getting down turns out to be easy. Locks have ceased to be a problem for me as long a subtlety isn’t required. A firm grip and a twist of my wrist breaks the lock on the roof access door and I’m inside.

Stairways in large buildings tend to be less used than elevators, tend to have fewer cameras too. All in all stairways are by far the best route to avoid attention. The Tengu has looked to have been settling in for the long hall, so I’m not exactly in a hurry heading down the ten stories of stairs.

Heading out the front of the building, I head back towards the alley where my target is waiting. Drawing even with the alley I turn and take a moment to examine the man I’ve been following more closely. I’m not exactly subtle about it, so it only takes a few moments of examination for the man to notice my staring at him.

“What’er you lookin at, foreigner bitch?” He demands in an accent that certainly isn’t what I’m used to hearing around the city.

Accents through Allspeak are weird. I don’t hear things in English, so it’s not like I’m hearing a southern accent or something, but the pronunciation is clearly different from what I’ve been hearing around the city. I also noticed that if I’m not careful I tend to acquire the accent and dialect of whoever I’m speaking with.

It would be nice to get confirmation that he is in fact what I’m looking for, and since rudeness seems to be the order of the day, “I’m trying to determine if you have the most unfortunate case of gigantism I’ve ever heard of or if your actually a crow monster from mythology.”

His eyes go wide over his dust mask, and after a moment of stammering he pulls a wakizashi short sword out from under his overly large hoodie, “I’ll show you gigantism.. Bi... slut!”

Did he just change insults half way through one?

I’ll take the sword, and how he smells more startled than angry, as confirmation. The smell of feathers clinging to him doesn’t hurt either. Which means that even though I have Sclamhaire and my athame on me, I don’t want to get into a sword fight with a Tengu. It seems to me that would be sort of like starting a land war in Asia.

So instead I pull my metaphorical telekinetic bowstring waaaay back, and launched the Tengu further into the alley at a decent speed.

I stroll into the alley after him to find him picking himself up slowly. So I take the opportunity to telekinetically slam him into a wall, and drop him at my feet. I wait a moment to see if he’ll start moving again, and when he does I punch him in the head. The man slumps to the ground, and lies still, I’m not sure that he’s done though, until his form slowly warps into that of a man sized bipedal crow, with arms and hands in addition to wings.

I really wasn’t expecting that.

Though I possibly should have been.

I’ve just decided that telekinesis is my favorite power. I’m sure it won’t be that easy every time, hopping vampires don’t rule the world after all, but god damn if TK from ambush doesn’t feel like a cheat.

Cheating sounds like exactly what I want to be doing though, so I don’t let it bother me. Which isn’t very hard really. I pluck a feather from the Tengu, and take a moment to drag him to a spot in the alley where he won’t be immediately visible from the street. That accomplished I stroll out of the alleyway, and head to the nearest bus stop to make my way back to my motel, whistling cheerfully.

That hadn’t been nearly as hard as I thought it would be. Sure it took a little while, but it wasn’t difficult. Hopefully the next part would be just as straight forward.

###

Someday I’ll learn to stop jinxing myself.

That day is not today.

I lean over the cheap table in my cheap motel room, looking down at the best map of the city I can find. The next step of my plan calls for covering the city in Script tags that will ping anytime they detect a Tegu enter their range. With overlapping coverage I’ll be able to track movements by which tags ping the same way it’s possible to track a cell phone by which cell towers it’s using.

The problem I’m having, is that I’m looking at the size of the city of Kyoto, and calculating how many tags I’ll need to cover the city in its entirety. In all three dimensions no less, and further how long it will take me to make and place them all...

It’s a more than a slightly prohibitive number.

Thousands of tags I’d have to make by hand, weeks to place them all. Not to mention how long the paper tags would last wherever I could find to place them...

No.

Just no.

Clearly I need a better plan.

...

Inspiration will strike at any moment now.

...

Aaaannnny moment...

...

Maybe Pua can help?


	23. Book 1 - Strange Birds

As it turns out Pua does have an answer, and that answer is, “Sympathetic magic.”

I blink and lean back in the chair that came with my much nicer hotel room. Money still isn’t really an issue for me Six or so years of working for spirits that don’t value the same things that humans do, and spending next to none of it, has left me with a more than comfortable amount of savings. So once it became clear that I’m not going to be leaving Kyoto in the five or six days I naively expected, I upgraded my accommodations.

“You mean like what you did, casting the ward spells into the trees? Making the wards grow as the trees do?” It’d been an awesome way to get around her relative lack of power, though I have no idea how she did it.

“Exactly, though what you’ll want to do will be a lot easier. You’ve heard the saying that the map is not the territory?”

I nod.

Then I remember that I’m on the phone, and she can’t see me, “Yeah?”

“Well, what you’re going to want to do is make the map the territory.” Pua tells me, sounding somewhat excited about the whole project.

“What.”

Pua sighs dramatically, “What you need to do is convince reality to be a little fuzzy on the difference between two things. The more similar the two things are, the easier it is. This is the sort of magic that makes Vodun dolls and European witchcraft’s poppets.”

“So I convince reality that the map and the city the map is of are... if not the same then interchangeable, then what I Script onto the map...”

“Is placed on the city as well.” Pua confirms.

“So I can do something that only needs to cover the map and still apply it to the whole city.” I glance at the already purchased, very detailed map of Kyoto which is spread out on my bed, “Thanks Pua, I think you just saved me a lot of time and a repetitive stress injury.”

“Can you even still get those?” My kahuna asks with a smile in her voice.

“Probably not, but I didn’t think I’d ever be sore again either, and I’ve done that several times.” We laugh together for a moment, before saying our goodbyes. She has work to do for her village, and I need to figure out a Script to make two very different things functionally the same.

I’m honestly looking forward to it.

###

My desk is covered in snow globes, paired statues, and one to scale model of the Tokyo Tower. It’s taken a week of almost constant effort, but I think I’ve finally managed to get a functional Script to forge a sympathetic connection, at least strong enough to work on the map and city. It’s only taken twelve pairs of broken snow globes, half a dozen scratched up paired statues, and one perfectly matched broken antenna on both my model and the real Tokyo Tower.

I would be prouder of that one if I’d done it on purpose.

Still, that particular mistake did give me the key to making the Script work, so I’m not exactly upset. Some part of me wants to send a note of apology, to whoever has to climb the damn thing to fix that antenna though.

The second part, the Script to track Tengu on the map linked to the city, is actually much easier. With the Tengu feather, finding the Script symbol for ‘crow demons’ is straightforward enough, and after that it only takes a couple of hours of trial and error to get movement tracked through the city on the map.

All I have to do is wait.

I’ll give it a week.

I pin the map up on a wall where I can watch as lines trace themselves on it, following where Tengu move, and where the lines intersect over and over again. When I can’t stand just watching the map any more, which takes about two minutes, I turn back to other pursuits.

Now that I have my soul back in one piece, and I’m not traveling, or working on some more immediate problem, I can focus on older ideas. After my first nightmare after my soul got shredded, I had an idea for a Script that would hopefully mean that leaving this reality wouldn’t mean leaving my friends behind forever.

I hadn’t gotten very far then. Hadn’t gotten anywhere at all, actually. Now that I’m firing on all cylinders again, I’m ready to give it another shot. It will be by far the most exotic and complex Script I've ever made, even more so than my tattoos. So I temper my expectations and get to work.

###

A week later I spread my map of Kyoto out on my desk, and examine my results. Over all, Tengu get around. Their trails wander all over, congregating at more than two dozen places scattered across the city. Checking all of them will be a pain, and one I suspect I’ll have to endure before this is over, but I can at least try to make it easier on myself.

For all that there are plenty of places that Tengu seemed to visit regularly, there are three that seem to be the most popular. With the huge number of Tengu that are coming and going what seems like constantly, the places would be perfect to disguise more sinister comings and goings.

So I’ll start with them and work my way down in order of popularity.

I pack up Sclamhaire in her carrying case, hide the athame under my coat, look longingly at where my armor is still packed away into a duffel bag, and head out to my first stop.

###

The single most popular stop for Tengu in all of Kyoto is a coffee shop. At least that’s what the sign over the door says, advertising the extremely unoriginal name of ‘Crow’s Coffee’. My confusion comes from the blacked out windows, and the sound of muted thumping club music coming from inside. That I’m hearing this in the middle of the day just means I’m even more confused.

Taking a deep fortifying breath I push my way into the... coffee shop...

It’s like walking into a wall.

The temperature is ten degrees higher inside, the music that had been muted now has a baseline that I can feel in my chest like I’m getting hit by a hammer, and the entire building is packed. Young looking men and women with long noses bounce and jump around each other like the entire coffee shop is a mosh pit.

The most jarring thing about it all though, is the decor.

The walls are covered with random junk. Bits of mirror, silverware, flatware, tinfoil. Everything and anything shiny has been glued, nailed, or attached in some other way anywhere it would fit. Hanging in the middle of the otherwise dark room is a disco ball. The ball spins throwing spots of light everywhere, which in turn bounce off the endless supply of shiny objects attached to the walls. The entire room turns into something that ought to come with a seizure warning, the light flickering and bouncing around the space in a manner that’s entirely unpredictable.

It’s a night club in every way that matters... except that it serves coffee instead of alcohol, and operates during the day.

The entire experience is jarring in a way that I haven't really experienced before. A blast of sensory overload paired with cognitive dissonance that physically and mentally rocks me back onto my heels.

After a moment I manage to push the mental static down enough to more or less function. Gathering my wits and my courage I push my way further into the nightmare.

I get a few strange looks from others, clearly I’m not one of them, but my lack of reaction to them prompts a lack of reaction from them in turn. Also, as I work my way through the crowd I begin to doubt that what they’re serving is actually coffee. Everybody here is acting manically high. I don’t know enough about recreational drugs to speculate what they might be spiking their coffee with, but it had to be something. They jump and bounce and gyrate, flinging sweat around them as they engage in what for them, in this place, passes for dance.

Or some sort of Tengu mating ritual, given what I can see a few couples doing on the dance floor.

I’ve been inside for maybe two minutes, and I’m already developing a pounding headache.

Between the mass of people and the throbbing music I can’t really get a clear picture of what the interior space looks like. So heading straight for the employee only areas is right out, because I can't find the employee only areas. I’m going to have to do this the hard, extremely unpleasant way. The way that involves me staying here for any time at all. Pushing to the edge of the crowd, I hug the wall like a lifeline and start to make my way around the exterior of the main room.

I’ll find the back areas eventually, one way or another.

###

It takes two hours to find and search everywhere in the coffee club, but I manage with frequent uses of my glamor to get into places where I’m pretty sure the staff would have objected to my being. Unfortunately, aside from a huge number of edged weapons that I’m pretty sure are illegal in Japan, there’s nothing to find.

So with my head splitting, I manage to make my way back to my hotel and only just make it to the bed before flopping onto it and passing out. Which means I get woken up in the morning by the hollow empty ache that tells me I forgot to take in mana the night before. That plus a lingering headache means that I’m not in the greatest of moods, when I set out to check out number two on my list of favorite Tengu hang out places.

On some level I feel like I shouldn’t be surprised by what I find, but I’m really not expecting it, no matter how much sense it makes in hindsight. Really, where else would you expect to find a bunch of sword obsessed anachronisms who don’t really know how to get along in modern society, other than the SCA?

When I arrive I find myself standing at the edge of a park filled with maybe two dozen people dressed in modern takes on medieval European armor, beating each other with sticks. Why they’re dressed as European knights when Japan has a rich martial culture all it’s own, I have no idea.

They seem to be having fun though, and the Tengu are easy to spot. Not from their noses for once, but from how differently they use their swords. Not that they use a different style than anybody else, but every time they pick up a sword, even if that sword is made out of rattan, they’re comfortable with it in a way nobody else is. Like they’ve regained a limb that has been missing. As hard as the phenomenon is to put into words it’s obvious to see.

Still this clearly isn’t what I’m looking for. The number of Tengu aside, I doubt that the coup that’s coming has it’s secret headquarters in a large empty field.

I groan and run my hands through my hair, tugging it slightly in frustration. This is going to take forever, but I really don’t have any better ideas, so I’ll just have to tough it out. I turn, and run over a small girl that’s standing right behind me. I’m so surprised that I utterly fail to do anything to stop my fall, so I manage to take both of us to the ground.

The girl squeaks as I hit her, and grunts as I land partially on her. I lay stunned for a moment, having face planted into the grass. After a moment though I collect enough of my wits to roll off the girl, regain my feet, and try to help her to help her up.

“I’m so sorry.” Japanese has a depth to it’s apologies that English really lacks, “I didn’t notice you there...” And how the hell had I missed her? I hadn’t smelled her, heard her, or felt her mana. It’s the first time anybody but Ku has managed to sneak up on me since I started upgrading myself.

The girl looks to be in her late teens or early twenties, and would have been rather pretty but the Tengu nose is kind of a deal breaker for me. Otherwise she looks a lot like every other Tengu I’ve seen, pale skin, raven black hair, and very dark eyes.

She’s a little stunned from the impact, but bounces back very quickly, almost literally as she hops to her feet, “That’s okay! Hi! I’m Mia! What are you looking for?”

I want to ask, ‘what makes you think I’m looking for something’. Instead what comes out is, “What?”

The girl, Mia, has the hyperactive adorable stereotype down pat. It's almost more than I can keep up with. “Weeeellll... I saw you at Crow’s Coffee yesterday, and you clearly weren’t enjoying yourself but you wandered around plenty anyway, and you clearly didn’t belong there, so I followed you around, except when you disappeared, and how did you do that anyways, it was really cool, and so I followed you back to your hotel room, and looked around while you were sleeping, and you’re tracking Tengu all over the city and then you came here today, and you seem frustrated so you obviously haven’t found what you’re looking for, so I wanted to know what that is!” She bounces on her toes with a big smile on her face, like she hasn’t just admitted to breaking and entering and stalking me all over the city.

Though I suppose given what my map is doing I can’t really complain about the last one.

I’m again reduced to mono syllables, as this girl explains what she’s done. Following me while I’m in the coffee club is one thing with how overwhelmed I was, but continuing to follow me without being spotted across the city?

“How?”

Mia gets an evil glint in her eye and smirks, “I’ma sneaky bird.”

###

Mia was an opportunity or a disaster, and I honestly can’t tell which. She’d stalked me, my efforts to go unnoticed in the coffee club having come to nothing. She’d broken into my room, and followed me around for the entire next day. And apparently all she wants to know is what I’m up to. Not even in a threatening manner, more the feel of somebody who saw a very lost tourist and wants to know where they’re trying to get to.

On the one hand, why the hell did I even bother to get all these improved senses when they don’t do shit? Is it me, or the small Tengu? I have no real way of knowing, and my first instinct is to get rid of the potential threat in a way that’ll guarantee that it never becomes an actual threat.

On the other hand, I’m beginning to worry that my plans for finding the coup’s HQ have been overly optimistic. What if there aren’t as many Tengu involved in the kidnapping as I thought there were? What if only a couple of the Tengu actually go to wherever the planning is happening and the rest are compartmentalized?

The longer I think about it, the more ways I can see for my plan to never get me anywhere. Right in front of me though, I have a Tengu, that if I can bring myself to trust her, can possibly just ask, and learn everything I need to know.

So what the hell am I going to do?

In the end what makes up my mind is something that really shouldn’t influence me as much as it does.

She offers to buy me coffee.

She smiles at me from across the table, drinking her coffee through a straw so that her nose doesn’t get in the way. My own hot chocolate isn’t bad, not the best I’ve had, but certainly not the worst.

“So? I have paid your fee, what are you looking for?” Mia chirps eagerly.

I sigh wrenching my thoughts back to the issue at hand. The real question is, ‘can I trust her?’...

No...

The question is, ‘can I take her if I take a chance and end up being wrong?’

I eye her again, modern loose clothing makes it difficult to judge her build, but I’ll just assume that she can kick my ass in a sword fight. I have telekinesis though, and as I’ve already figured out, telekinesis is a blatant cheat. With that plus the advantage that I really don’t care about exposing the supernatural to the rest of the world, I’m leaving after all, I think I can probably put her down if I have too.

“I’m looking for a conspiracy.” I tell Mia slowly, watching her reactions with care. Just because I’ve decided to take a chance, and I think I can kill her doesn’t mean I’m not going to be careful, “There’s a group of Yokai working with outside agitators looking to overthrow Yasaka, they plan to do this by kidnapping her daughter, and holding her hostage. The outsiders want access to the ley node that Yasaka’s plugged into, but I’m pretty sure the locals just want her under control.”

When I started talking Mia lost her smile, as I continue though she gets more and more pale, and as I finish, she looks down right murderous, “Kunou-chan?” She asks, her voice a little faint.

I nod, taking another sip of my hot chocolate. That reaction looks legitimate at least, and she certainly smells like she’s in shock.

Shock that rapidly becomes fury.

Time to make it worse, “If that’s the girl's name.” I shrug, “Unfortunately, all I know is that the conspiracy is largely organized by people working for a group called the Khaos Brigade, spelled with a K, and a lot of Tengu are involved.”

The Tengu in front of me grimaces at that, “How did you find out about this?” She asks, interesting that she's not arguing for the innocence of her species. Also not acting nearly as bubbly as she has been up until now.

“I have rather extensive contacts with the little spirits.” I tell her easily. Anybody who asks around about me at all will find that out, so I’m not really giving anything away, “Strangely, nobody really thinks to worry about the terrain when they start talking about secret things.” I nod in the direction of the cherry tree that’s planted not far from our table.

Mia jerks her head around to look at the inoffensive tree. Which giggles at her. Or maybe it’s just a conveniently well timed breeze through its leaves.

Anybody's guess really.

The Tengu turns back to look at me like she just discovered that the large dog she’s been playing with is actually a Grim.

Apparently my intelligence network makes me scarier.

Mia takes a long breath and lets it out, seeming to refocus, “If somebody is trying to kidnap Kunou-chan... well that’s not something I can let slide. So your plan is to check anyplace a lot of Tengu frequent?”

I shrug, “Pretty much.”

“That’s a... plan that would require a lot of patience...” Mia tells me diplomatically, “I could probably find out where they are if I asked around a little.”

I sit back in my chair eyeing the Yokai, “Which just leaves us with one issue.”

Mia nods, “The question of trust.”

“Yes...” I’m really starting to wonder just who the hell Mia is. She refers to her faction leader’s daughter with personal affection. She seems legitimately, personally, pissed at the idea of something happening to the girl. Sneaking up on me should not be as easy as she makes it sound, between my enhanced senses and the extra sense for mana that Mana Breathing gives me. Now she’s spectacularly relaxed in a situation that ought to be extremely tense.

Well let's see if she’s still as accepting when I explain what I want as insurance, “Trust. You come with me back to my hotel room, and I’ll put a tag on you that will detonate if you commit to treachery.”

The Tengu seems to study me for a moment, then smiles, “Okay!” She chirps happily.

“Okay, I can’t not ask at this point. Why are you so okay with this?” It’s honestly kind of creepy. I just told her I want to put a bomb on her for fucks sake!

Mia just smiles, “Because I know I’m not going to betray you, or Yasaka-sama, or Kunou-chan. So I’ve got nothing to worry about, right?”

I stare at her, for a long moment unable to do anything else. After a minute, during which her smile never wavers I manage to croak, “Right.”

I’ll be pissed as hell if our positions were reversed, but she seems completely okay with the idea.

“Great! Let’s get this done then!”

Completely. Okay.

Really, what the hell is wrong with this girl?

###

Treachery is pretty easy to work with in Script. It’s a concept that’s easy to express, so the Script ends up the closest to programming code of anything I’ve ever done before. ‘If the target decides to commit a betrayal, explode’. It’s a little more complicated than that, but not much.

Really the explosion is the much harder part.

Unless I know the precise Script symbol for what I want the end result of the explosion to be, which I don’t, I need to describe what I want to happen. There are two ways to go about that, the first is in physics terms, the other is in what I want the explosion to accomplish. I typically go with the second option. If I describe the explosion as ‘so many newtons of force pointed in x direction’ it would be quicker and easier, but there’s also always the chance that I’ll hit something that I don’t mean to.

Something important.

Something like one of my mother’s prized rose bushes.

Not that anything like that has ever happened.

On the other hand, while the second option takes more time to write, and is more complex, I can know for certain that I’ll only damage what I mean to.

Which leads to me spending some fifteen minutes describing in excruciating detail exactly how the Script will break the Tengu’s body if it goes off. It also lets me sneak in another function I haven’t told Mia about. Using my new experience with sympathetic connections I manage to sneak an eavesdropping Script into the tag without it being obvious.

Just in case she figures out some way around the rest of the Script, I’ll hear everything going on around her, and will hopefully hear something that’ll give her away before it becomes a problem.

The remote detonator to the Script is another thing that I don’t mention, but it seems obvious to me.

After spending a half hour filling a paper tag, that’s unsurprisingly easy to find in Japan, from edge to edge with Script symbols, I stick it to her back right between her shoulder blades and send her off.

I sort of trust her.

I trust her with my Script on her much more though.

We’ll see how dumb that is given time.

I spend the next day listening to Mia over the tag, and working my way down my list of Tengu hang outs at the same time. Just because I have another, perhaps better, way of finding what I’m looking for, doesn’t mean I should stop looking myself.

The next place on my list of Tengu hangouts is the Kyoto sword museum. Which is a cool place that I wouldn’t mind spending more time looking at, but doesn’t have a secret conspiracy working out of it.

After that comes a building that’s interior is covered in trampolines.

Then an arcade.

Then a high school weirdly enough. I don’t know why, but the school is the stop that weirds me out the most. It’s just a normal high school that doesn’t look or feel special in any way shape or form. It still has a huge population of Tengu though. Nothing else supernatural about it, just Tengu.

Weirds me out something fierce.

None of them are hiding a conspiracy though.

So I’m both glad, and slightly resigned, when I open the door to my hotel room and find Mia waiting for me sitting on my bed. Already exhausted I raise an eyebrow at her in question. I stopped listening closely to what she was doing around the time I found myself searching the back areas of the arcade, so I don’t know what she’s found if anything. Just that she hasn't exploded, so everything is, at least, not as bad as it could be.

Mia grins like the proverbial cat with a canary, which sounds odd with her being a crow and all, “Found it~!” She sings cheerfully.

I blink, giving my tired brain a chance to process what she said. Part of me, the larger part, is thrilled that I’ve found what I’m looking for. That doesn't prevent a smaller part of me from resenting all the time I put into my Tengu map, only for it to have done absolutely nothing in the end.

“So are we going now?” The excitable Tengu asks, bouncing on my bed.

I just glare at her, and head into the en-suite bathroom to take a well deserved hot shower.

Shower, then dinner, then refilling my mana, then bed.

Everything else can wait for tomorrow.

“Is that a no then?”

I slam the door shut and ignore her.

“I’m gonna take that as a no then.” A long pause, “So I’ll be back tomorrow?”

###

As promised she’s back the next day. She actually wakes me up, far too early in the morning. She does come with hot chocolate for me though, so I forgive her.

Still...

“Why are we going this early in the morning?” Sitting up, I can barely see out the window, sun only just rising, the gold disk peaking over the skyline of the city. Which explains why I’m having so much trouble getting started. I down half my drink as fast as I can, enjoying the way the hot liquid burns on the way down, and drag myself out of bed. I stagger my way over to the hotel room closet, I’d stashed a large piece of cloth in there with my Pressure script on it. Not having to rewrite it every time is such a relief. I can’t wait to have a place of my own so I can set up a permanent one. As handy as my current solution is, the cloth will only last for maybe a week before the energy moving through the Script burns through the cloth.

For now though, I roll out the cloth and sit myself down. After a few minutes of meditation I trigger the Script, and open myself to the world as much as I can. My senses explode outward as the mana is forced into my network. Both the distance I can detect, and the fidelity of my perceptions improving massively. I can feel every person staying in the hotel, I can feel the birds nesting on the roof, and the rats in the basement.

I can feel the thin shell of mana surrounding Mia that’d hidden her from my senses. It’s a neat trick, note to self figure out a way to beat that without active Mana Breathing later.

Mia, unaware of the minor religious experience that I have every time I feed, answers my half awake question, while watching me with interest, “Because, like many conspiracies perpetrated by amateurs they like to have their meetings late at night.” Implying you’re not an amature, Mia? She examins my Script, moving carefully around the cloth and continues to talk, “So I figure that early morning is when they’re least likely to be there. Since they’ll all be asleep.” She pauses as she makes it all the way around the Script, stopping in front of me, “What are you doing?”

“Feeding.” is my one word answer. I don’t really feel like explaining the details of my dietary requirements. Fortunately Mia just shrugs and happily continues to talk about whatever crosses her mind. This girl is so confusing, I wish she’d just pick a personality and stick with it.

That doesn’t seem likely though.

I’m done with my ‘meal’ only twenty minutes later, and shanghai Mia into helping me put on my armor. Even with the help and some practice it still takes me forty five minutes of awkward contortions to get it all on. Though once I do, I feel some part of my soul that’s been stretched too far, relax again.

I really need to figure out how to store the armor and Sclamhaire with the rest of my soul, because this is just unacceptable.

Mia stalls out when I pull Sclamhaire from the bag I had her hidden in. The Tengu’s gaze is drawn to the sword like she has a gravitational pull. I swear there’s a little bit of drool there.

“What is that?” Mia asks staring wide eyed, her voice thick with awe and reverence.

I hesitate for a moment.

In a very real way, Sclamhaire is a part of me, and I worked damned hard, I’m still working damned hard, for her. Mia’s admiration feels good the same way Sarah gushing over something impressive I’ve done in the classes we shared, did.

After that moment I decide that a little bit of bragging can’t hurt, “This,” I say as I pull her from her sheath, “is Sclamhaire, the Devourer. Forged for me along with the armor by the Lady of the Lake.” Mia stares in awe at the absolute blackness of the blade and the faintly shimmering Script symbols that seem to float in that void.

“So cooool...” The Tengu breaths, eyes sparkling at the mention of who forged Sclamhaire. Vivain, probably, isn’t nearly as well known out here in the east as she is in European countries. She’s still one of the best smiths in the world though, so I figure anybody as sword obsessed as Tengu have proven to be, would still know who she is, “Can I hold her?” Mia asks, beginning to sound giddy.

My flat, “No.” sends her mood in an instant one eighty, and has her pouting at me as hard as she can, “No!” I repeat more emphatically, and sheathed my sword, “When I said Sclamhaire was forged for me, I meant it. I’m the only one who can touch her. I don't know what would happen to somebody else who tries, but I was warned that they’d probably lose a hand at the very least.”

Mia narrows her eyes, gaze flicking back and forth between her hand and Sclamhaire’s hilt, “Ummm...”

“Are you trying to decide if losing a hand is worth it?” Really?

“No?” The little Tengu offers.

I secure Sclamhaire’s sheath to my back plate shaking my head, “Just... show me where these people have been hiding.” I head for the door hearing Mia follow behind me, “And pouting harder at the back of my head won’t make me change my mind.”

“Awww...”

###

Mia leads me to a warehouse that’s actually just outside of the city limits. Thus not on my map. So my method would never have found them.

I am in no way bitter about this.

“Are you pouting?” Mia asks. She’s standing next to me on the roof of another wearhouse across the street from where she says the coup does it's plotting.

“No.” I’m not!

It just feels like Mana Breathing all over again. So close to success, unknowingly making one mistake that means I would have never succeeded, no matter what I did.

So really, really annoying.

“You totally are!” Mia snickers.

“Just... shut up.” I sigh, pulling up the face mask that’s hidden in my gorget. The face mask is the same mat black as the rest of the armor, and merges with the shadows that always cover the top of my face with my hood up. With both up, the interior of my hood looks like an empty void. Like this I could be just about anything. I have no skin showing, and the armor completely hides my gender. All that shows is that I’m humanoid. Which narrows things down not at all. Sure my armor is distinctive as hell, but at least I’ll still be able to walk around safely without it if I get spotted, “I’m going to sneak my way in and look around. If nobody else is in there, I’ll just grab everything that looks interesting and get out. If somebody else is in there... Well, same plan. If I can’t get to the evidence though, I’ll keep whoever it is busy and you come in and see if you can grab the evidence while I keep them distracted. Just keep watch.”

Mia turns the plan over in her mind, her head cocking to one side while she thought, in a gesture that’s adorably bird-like, “The plan sounds good in general. But... why are you sneaking in first?”

I smirk at her, not that she can see it and, I’m not here, to all evidence erase myself from existence. I drop my glamor quickly to not waste mana and use a telekinetic boost to leap across the street towards the target warehouse.

I only just catch Mia’s, “Oh, that's why.” behind me.

Catching myself telekinetically at the other end is still harder, but I manage without embarrassing myself at least. Once I’m steady on my feet, I take a look around. The warehouse itself is indistinguishable from any of the innumerable others that are in the area. I never would have looked at it twice if Mia hadn’t pointed me at the place. I glance over my shoulder at the building I’d just come from, and see the Tengu has vanished from view.

With a shrug I turn back to my task.

Sitting in the middle of the roof I close my eyes and try my best to once again push through the block that keeps me from connecting to the world's mana on my own. I hardly need refilling, but the boost from becoming one with the world would give my mana senses would be handy.

After a minute or two beating my head against that metaphorical wall, I give up and resign myself to using my unenhanced mana senses. Detecting mana is a lot like seeing light in a dark room. Every source of mana is a point source, the more powerful the source, the brighter the light. According to Ku, there’s all sorts of information one can gather from this based on color, pattern, consistency, and a million other details of the mana source. If I could detect those details anyway. I’m not nearly good enough to distinguish any of that though, I’m pleased that I can detect a mana source at all.

The range of my mana senses don’t quite cover the entirety of the warehouse. They cover enough of it that I feel comfortable saying that the only living things in the warehouse aren’t big enough to be a concern, though. I’m still going to proceed like the place is occupied. As Mia taught me recently, my mana sense is far from infallible.

The next step is getting myself inside.

There aren’t any convenient doors or sky lights on the roof, which doesn’t honestly surprise me. There are ventilation windows along the top edge of the walls though. In absolute terms the windows are big enough for me to fit through, what that means practically will depend on exactly how the windows open.

A quick check around the edge of the warehouse finds me one of those windows that’s already open. It’s easy to spot as the window tilts open so the top half of the window leans outward, the bottom in turn swings inwards. The damn things couldn’t just slide or open like a normal window could they? Unfortunately, I’m a little too big to squeeze through the open portion of a center pivot window. Maybe before I’d grown I could have wriggled through, but not after, and certainly not in armor.

Still it’s my best bet for an inconspicuous entrance, so I’m gonna have to work with what I have.

I grab the edge of the roof and hop over the roof edge, hanging by my fingers and ending up pretty even with the window. I hook a finger around the pivot, brace my thumb against the cheap metal of the frame, and do my best to tear the window pane free without breaking the glass.

The entire maneuver is something I wouldn’t have even thought about trying before I got troll strength. I have troll’s strength though, so it’s worth a shot. Slowly the metal bulges, stresses, and finally after what feels like a small eternity, I manage to rip the window free of the metal frame somewhat quietly.

I sigh in relief, and slowly pull the window free. Keeping a delicate grip on it, I pull myself up to carefully place the single pane of glass on the roof out of the way. Getting both hands on the edge of the roof, I shimmy sideways until I’m perched right over the window. With a short drop I latch onto the bottom of the window frame. Planting my feet and pushing off of the wall, I roll my way through the window.

I control my roll enough by hanging onto the window frame, that any noise from landing on the catwalk around the inside edge of the warehouse...

A cat walk that doesn’t exist.

Apparently not all warehouses are built the same.

A two floor drop isn’t something that’s very scary for me now luckily. I flick my ‘I’m not here’ glamor on for a few moments before and after my feet hit the ground, making sure that I produce no noise on impact.

I let out a sigh of relief as, for a moment, I can’t help but think of all the ways that could have gone so much worse.

Remember Ericka, ‘look before you leap’ isn’t just a pithy saying, it’s practical advice. You should follow it.

Refocusing from my inner voice of self admonishment, that sounds a lot like Pua strangely, I start to look around.

The warehouse is far from empty, and is mostly filled with crates of various sizes. I waver for a moment, before giving in to my curiosity and prying one of the smaller crates open. Inside are an assortment of swords, that all look like they should be on the wall of some nerd that has never seen or handled a real sword. Show pieces, basically. I almost dismiss them as exactly what they looked like, but something catches my attention. Something just on the edge of my senses, like catching movement out of the corner of my eye.

I look around, and sniff the air before I realize that it's my relatively new mana sense that’s trying to get my attention. The swords have mana in them. Not a lot, the amount of mana is nothing compared to any of the weapons that Ku has collected, but he tends to pick up powerful relics so that’s not a great benchmark.

It does feel like the swords have enough mana to make a supernatural creature know they’ve been hit though.

Frowning I close that crate and check another.

Then another.

All the crates of about the same size and dimensions of the first one are filled with magic swords.

I’ve never seen a Sacred Gear in use, but I do know that two of the more common ones are Blade Blacksmith and it’s opposite Sword Birth. Both do pretty much the same thing, they make magic swords. Either infernal or holy flavor, depending on the Gear in question.

This looks very much like somebody is using one or more of those Gears to mass produce weapons without arousing suspicion. Weapons that would be able to harm supernaturals. The sort of thing that you’d need if you were arming a rebellion.

I check a few more and find medical supplies, rations, and armor. All of it mass produced, but of decent quality. Any doubts I might have had that I’m in the wrong place, vanish.

Moving with more determination, I start to search the warehouse for more easily transported evidence.

Which isn’t hard to find as it turns out.

The center of the warehouse is open, free of crates. Instead there are several clear, dry erase boards on stands with all sorts of things taped to them. They’re all arranged around a central table that's also covered with plenty of both loose paper, and files.

Jackpot!

I head over with a large grin hidden under my mask.

I check the boards first. They’re covered with pictures of various people, a map of what I assume is the Yokai palace, time tables listing guard rotations and who's on duty when.

On one of them are two pictures that stand out. The first image is of a voluptuous blond woman with asian features wearing a miko, or shrine maiden, outfit. Two fox ears sit on top of her head that match her hair in color, and behind her nine golden furred fox tails spread out like a fan. She’s sitting in a formal seat, and the entire feel of the picture is that of a state photo.

The second picture is of a small girl with similarly colored hair to the older woman. The girl is wearing similar clothing, has similar ears, and two tails visible in the photo. The kid is trying as hard as she can to be serious, but hasn't really pulled it off. Instead she looks like a grumpy plushie. That poor kid must get glomped by at least half of everybody that sees her.

Yasaka, nine tailed fox, and her daughter, Kunou, kidnapping target.

The kid is cute, but I don’t really see why everybody is so taken with Yasaka. Probably just personal taste.

Turning from the boards I look over the table. Most of it is taken up with a much larger map of Kyoto than the one I have. It not only includes the city and the warehouse district, but actually shows the Yokai’s hidden forest as well. Paths through the forest are marked down, as well as the territories of various kinds of Yokai. Papers scattered across the map have a breakdown of the wards that protected the forest, and profiles of powerful people that I assume they think might be around when they kick things off.

Most incriminating, is an itinerary that, based on items on it like class times and play times, has to be Kunou’s. There’s even a smaller copy of the palace map attached to it, that traces the little fox’s most common routes through the palace.

Everything you need for a kidnapping in other words.

Also enough evidence to convince Yasaka to at least start and investigation.

I start collecting everything that looks important, pulling various stacks of paper together so they’ll be easier to carry. Interestingly, I find a profile with Mia’s picture on it.

Note to self, read that and figure out who the hell Mia is before you meet up with her again.

All in all though, this is everything I need right here.

I really hadn’t expected it to be this easy...

I freeze as soon as the thought crosses my mind.

God damnit, Ericka.

As if summoned by my thoughts, a spell circle lites up on the floor in one corner of the clear area. For a moment I just stare at it in incomprehension, it really kind of looks like the teleportation circles I’ve seen devils use...

I sprint for the nearest crates and dive behind them, trying to reach cover before whoever is teleporting in finishes. I plant my back up against the wood of one of the larger crates that I haven’t looked in, and try to calm my breathing. I listen as hard as I can, to map what’s happening so I won't have to stick my head out of cover, and give myself away to know what's going on.

It kinda looks like I’m going to have to go with plan B.

I really hope that Mia is paying attention.

I pull myself into a crouch, readying myself for the coming fight as two people step free of the teleportation circle. One of them sounds nearly seven feet tall. From the sound of his footsteps, and the shape of him, he’s probably something like four hundred pounds of solid muscle.

The other guy is a much more reasonable five and half feet, give or take an inch. He doesn’t walk so much as glide across the floor, his footsteps soft enough to be inaudible to a normal human.

What nearly has me giving up on the spot though, is what my mana sense is telling me.

The big guy has more mana than a normal human by a mile. I figure that the shorter one isn’t a slouch either, but I can’t tell because he’s almost entirely blotted out by the solid bar of mana he’s carrying.

He just has it casually leaning against one shoulder.

It’s more mana in one place than I’ve ever sensed before.

More than Ku or Pua.

More than the hopping vampire, or the stray devil.

More than the Mo'o.

More than the god damned lady of the lake.

I have no idea what the hell it is, but it's powerful enough that if it’s so much as waved in my general direction, then I and the surrounding several city blocks will probably just, cease to be.

I can’t fight these people.

“I’m just sayin, once they let us in there’s no reason to keep them around right?” The big one sounds frustrated, “Then we could just...” He slams a fist into the palm of his other hand, creating an explosion that makes my ears pop painfully from the shockwave that blows past me, even with the cover of the crates breaking it up.

I grit my teeth to keep from making any noise. Fortunately they’re talking loud enough to be heard over the faint ringing in my ears.

“You’re a brute.” The shorter one says with friendly despair, “I refuse to be bound to a plan with a single point of failure. My way either our temporary allies,” the sneer on the word is audible, “succeed, and give us what we want, or we do and win anyway.”

The bigger man grumbles but doesn’t argue, “God damned freaks.” He mutters not at all softly, given the way his voice is as large as he is, “One of them was in here messing around. Stacked all the papers together. Now I’m gonna have to sort them all out again.”

I hold my breath as the shorter man freezes, “Say that again?”

“Somebody’s been in here fucking around. Messed with the files.” The big one repeats.

The short one moves faster than I can track to the big one’s side, “Yes, somebody has been here. However possibly not one of ours. Search the place, we’re not alone.”

Well...

Fuck.


	24. Book 1 - Reputation

In some ways I’m lucky. The warehouse is dimly lit, the only light coming from the ventilation windows, leaving the cavernous space shrouded in deep gloom. The crates create a maze, stacked in some form of organization that I can’t readily identify. They reach from chest high on me, to tall enough that if it weren’t for my improved eyes, the top of the stacks would vanish into the dim lighting.

Really it’ll be impossible to see anything in here without some form of low light vision.

Which makes me wonder, how are my new problems seeing anything? They’re not local, they aren't speaking to each other in Japanese, which means they’re from the Khaos Brigade. I seem to remember that the faction of the Brigade that’s the most active at this point in time hates supernaturals, so the two here are probably some kind of human.

I probably have better senses than they do, which is an advantage I’ll welcome. Of course no sooner has the thought crossed my mind than with a ‘ka-chunk’ sound, and an electric hum the overhead lights blink to life.

Well never mind then.

That makes everything harder, and worse my current hiding place is the closest bit of cover to the table.

Which is why I’m here.

It also means that this is the first place anybody vaguely competent is going to look.

So right now, I need to move.

I sprint several rows of crates down, listening to the two searchers head for exactly where I had just been. Luckily my armor is quieter than it has any right to be because I have to push myself hard to get out of sight before they arrive at my former shelter.

“Hmmm...” That’s the shorter one’s voice, “Not totally incompetent then.” Well fuck you too, buddy. Who the hell are these people? “Split up.” He murmurs to his huge companion, “Try to box them in.” If my hearing wasn’t as good as it is I probably wouldn’t have heard that.

“Are you sure there’s actually somebody here?” On the other hand the big guy apparently isn’t actually capable of being quiet. He’s clearly trying, but he’s also clearly not built for subtlety.

I don’t wait around for however the smaller man would reply, instead I start moving at a decent clip, trying to get around them. If they try to box me in, they’ll be sweeping towards me, to pin me against the walls. If I can get behind them though, they’ll move away from me giving me some breathing room.

The big guy starts moving parallel to me a few rows closer to their work area, the two of them attempting to try and cut the warehouse volume in half. I put on a bit more speed, and duck into a different isle. I’ll have to wait for the two to pass me in their search, I don’t want to risk one of them glancing sideways and seeing me go by. I only live as long as they can’t find me, and I don’t want to spend mana when I have other ways to go unseen.

I hold my breath as the big one stomps past, muttering under his breath about wasting his time. The moment he’s past me, I dart away from him, running in the opposite direction he’s moving in as quickly as stealth will allow.

It only takes me a couple of minutes to make it to the far end of the warehouse from where I’d started. As soon as I’m far enough away from them to be comfortable with the distance, I lean against another crate to calm my breathing.

Breathing calm, I listen again. The big one isn’t hard to find, his footsteps are heavy enough that I might have been able to track him even without my improvements. The short one though... Something moves around various crates in my direction faster than I can really track.

I can't really get any resolution on the fast moving object, but my subconscious must be paying more attention than the rest of me. My legs fold under me and I drop flat on my back. Looking up at a simple leaf shaped blade, attached to a simple wooden pole, shining with mana like the sun, punches through the crate right where my head had been.

My eyes go wide as I try to figure out what just happened. The spear stays where it is for a moment, before pulling back out of sight. I barely have enough wherewithal to throw up my glamor, getting it up only just before the shorter one steps around the corner to look at me.

He has black hair, and focused blue eyes that studies where I lay, I’m not here, without seeing me. He’s wearing what I’m pretty sure is a Japanese highschool uniform, long sleeves, solid colored jacket and slacks. Both are purple, which he somehow keeps from looking completely ridiculous. A wide belt keeps a light Chinese robe of white, with blue, black, and gold trim, from falling off of him as he lets the top half fall loose. All in all I think Sarah would call him attractive, but too high maintenance for anything more than a one night stand.

He examines the area with narrowed eyes, even kneeling down and staring at the floor right through my torso. All the while that absolutely terrifying spear blazes mana as he rests it casually against one shoulder.

I’m not here.

After what feels like an eternity holding my breath, he stands again looking slightly frustrated, and smelling very frustrated, and more than a little confused. I hold my glamor up, acutely aware that if I have to keep it up for too long I’m completely screwed. I can only keep my glamor going for a couple of minutes, and those minutes are rapidly running out.

I’m getting ready to start trying to inch backwards on the floor, to try to get some distance, when the big one’s voice booms across the warehouse, “Cao Cao! Did you get them?” Isn’t that somebody from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms?

The now named Cao Cao sighs, and rubs his face with his free hand, “No, I did not.” He glares at the floor again, though it really feels like he’s glaring at me, I’m not here, “They are not where I expected them to be.”

“Ha! Somebody finally didn’t fall for one of your traps!” The big one laughs.

Trap?

Fuck!

What had the trap been?

“Apparently not.” Cao Cao says with good humor, “Did you have something you wanted to share besides your joy at our opponents competence, and our positions?”

“Yeah. I think I found how they got in.” The big one says, humor quickly draining from his voice.

“Oh?” Now the spear wielder looks interested, “How so?” Finally he walks past me towards his companion, giving up on figuring out what ever had confused him.

“One of the little windows along the top of the walls. It’s missing the window part.”

“Really?” Cao Cao speeds up slightly, and vanishes into the crates. I let out a breath as he finally disappears from view, and I can drop my glamor. As quietly as I can, I pull myself to my feet and look around. Specifically I’m eyeing the narrow and distressingly clean hole that the magic spear of doom had punched through the weather treated wood.

How the hell did he know to thrust there?

I hadn’t given myself away, I know that. If I had he’d have been much more confused or determined when he checked for me, because he would have known that I’d just been there. Instead, it’s like he anticipated, distressingly accurately, where I’d be and proceed from there.

The word ‘trap’ keeps circling my mind.

Could he have bated me here somehow?

I run over everything they’d done since arriving, and can’t spot anything obvious. Which makes sense I guess. I can admit that if it isn’t personal combat, Script, or something I’d learned in my last life, my education is rather lacking. Small unit tactics, which I think this qualifies as, really haven’t even been on my radar. Something to maybe remedy at some point in the future.

Now though I have to work with what I have.

I glance up at the towering stack of boxes. I wonder if these two suffer from the common human malady of not remembering to look up. It’s worth a shot at least. I crouch then leap for a stack of boxes only a story tall, catching the corner of the crate at the apex of my jump, and boosting myself on top of the large wooden container. From there, I repeat the feat to get myself up onto the top of a second story tall stack.

They really have a lot of supplies here.

How big is this coup?

I imagined a small strike force that would infiltrate the Yokai palace to kidnap the kid, and take control of Yasaka. Maybe twenty people max. There are enough supplies in these crates to equip and maintain a force with more than five times that number of people at least.

I carefully position myself in the middle of the boxes, where it’ll be hardest to see me, to try and figure out my next move. I still nearly fall off my perch at the sound of Cao Cao’s voice, clearly addressing me, echoing through the warehouse.

“You know.” He says conversationally, “It occurs to me that we both have been very rude. I am Cao Cao, reincarnation of the Chinese general by the same name.”

Reincarnations?

What the fuck?

Was that a thing in High School DxD?

Apparently so, must have been something introduced after I stopped watching, “I don’t expect you to introduce yourself. You’ve demonstrated that you are far from being that stupid, but still I thought we could take a moment to talk. I’m uncertain why you are here, but I have to wonder if we have to be enemies.”

Really? You try this after you try to shishkebab my head?

No way your that dumb.

No, he isn’t that stupid...

Maybe he assumes that I’m nowhere near where he was expecting, and have no idea that his first recourse had been murder?

“I doubt that you knew what you were getting into when you came into this building.” Cao Cao continues while I try to figure out what the hell he’s up to, “You’ve displayed a remarkable amount of skill and physical talent so far. Skill and talent that would be welcome in our organization.”

Is he really trying to recruit me?

Now?

No, he’s stalling. Trying to lull me into not paying attention to something.

What though?

Wait...

Where’s the big one?

Closing my eyes to better focus on my ears, I try to find anything I can of Cao Cao’s larger companion. I find nothing though. No thudding footsteps. No grumbling. I might have been able to find breathing, or maybe a heartbeat in an otherwise silent environment, but with Cao Cao talking there’s no chance of that.

Okay then... What's the worst thing he could do?

He’s large, probably disproportionately strong, and explosive.

I doubt he’ll knock down the warehouse, even assuming that he’s capable of it.

Which I’m not prepared to discount.

What else?

Assuming that Cao Cao has figured out I’m on top of the boxes, and given that they knew I’d come through one of the high windows I’m willing to bet they’ve at least considered the idea, he could collapse the stacks of crates? Most of the goods in the crates would probably survive, they’d be harder to transport, but they could always be re-boxed.

That seems more likely. It’d destroy my hiding place, probably immediately exposing me either by my scramble to not hit the ground, or by hitting the ground. After that, given the speed Cao Cao moved the last time he’d taken a shot at me, I’d be dead before I could stand up again.

So what can I do about it?

Looking up my answer is pretty obvious. Hopefully not so obvious as to be part of the trap. While there isn’t a convenient catwalk, simple physics means there have to be structural supports holding up the roof. Structural supports that appear in the shape of steel beams that can undoubtedly hold my weight.

The beams are shaped like miniature I-beams, there’s no top of the beam for me to rest on. However with a leap I grip the bottom of the I, and swing my feet up to hook my heels onto it as well.

With the color of my armor and the fact that I’m above the light fixtures, I’m probably better hidden now than I had been on top of the crates. So carefully, hand over hand, foot over foot, I start working my way back towards the center of the warehouse where my precious evidence still waits.

I hope.

Cao Cao keeps talking in that mild, friendly, highly suspicious tone, “If you’re human I could even find a place for you in my faction. We have a sad lack of infiltrators, something that you’re clearly skilled at.”

The man will not shut up. As I approach the open area I crane my neck to look down and see that the stack of papers I collected is still largely intact where I’d left it.

Which means...

I quickly examine every place that has vantage over the table. Paying special attention to those that somebody could easily hide in as well.

Yup, the papers are only left there as bait.

I find Cao Cao leaning against a stack of crates where he can see the table clearly, but wouldn’t be easily spotted by anybody not looking for him. He’s hidden well enough that I only find him because he keeps talking, and my hearing helps me locate him.

Worse, he’s regularly scanning the tops of all the crates. He’s on the opposite side of the clear area from me, which means that every so often his gaze goes almost right over me. So far the darkness has been enough, but I’m not willing to count on that. Especially not as I continue to draw closer to the open plotting area, which has floor lights that also point up, illuminating my otherwise perfectly dark hiding place.

I check my mana and grimace. What I have is not nearly enough, something that’s still way too common a state. With a silent sigh, I resign myself to likely burning through what’s left quickly. Every time he sweeps his gaze over me, I make sure my glamor is up, and drop it again as soon as he looks away, trying to use as little as possible. Slowly I creep upside down across the roof closer and closer to my goal.

Cao Cao hasn’t sprung his trap yet, and I can’t afford to take his bait with him staring at it. Of course it’s good bait because I can’t afford to leave without it either. At this point they know somebody is onto them. If I can’t get away with the evidence, who knows what they’ll do in response to getting found out. Somebody has to get after them before they have time to warn anybody.

I very well could have made the whole thing worse.

Shit!

Goddammit!

No, focus Ericka.

It’s not the end of the world yet.

That comes later.

I need them to set off their trap. Set things in motion again to break the stalemate.

... Or really I don’t need them to set off their trap, I just need to induce some chaos.

As I do increasingly when I’m not sure how to go about getting around an insurmountable opponent, I take a deep breath, moving as much mana as I can spare into my throat, and scream.

Every piece of glass in the building shatters. The lights blow out plunging the warehouse into darkness, a moment after that the wood of the crates begins to splinter, then collapse. First the large crates at the bottom of the biggest stacks go, then in a domino effect I could never have created on purpose, everything else collapses. Crates tumble to the ground, bursting on impact spilling their contents everywhere. I cling to the steel beam, which is letting off a remarkably clear tone from sympathetic vibration, as the chaos unfolds around me.

The moment things have mostly settled, but before the echoes of my voice and the destruction it’s caused fade, I let go of the beam with one hand so I can turn to get the best look possible at the clear space where my evidence had been.

It’s not so clear anymore. Several crates have fallen into the formerly open area, bursting on the concrete floor and covering the ground with rations, medical supplies and dozens of other things. Which doesn’t even include what the crates that had simply burst apart had contributed.

The clear boards that had surrounded the space have all shattered, and most have been knocked over as well by the flood of formerly stored items and debris. The table though has been largely unaffected. The steel it’s made from is unaffected by my scream, and as it’s equally far away from everything that has broken, it’s only been shoved around a little bit in the chaos.

Which means my pile of evidence is largely right where I’d left it.

Which is really handy.

“What the fuck happened.” That’s less so. The big guy, who as it turns out had been standing further back in the maze of crates, staggers forward. Clearly he really can’t see where he’s going, “Shit! I can’t see anything.” See? “My ears are still ringing.”

“Some sort of sonic attack.” Cao Cao says shaking his head, and peering into the gloom of the warehouse, “I think it’s fair to say that they aren’t interested in joining up.”

“Probably some beast anyway.” The big one grumbles.

That went very well, except for one thing. Cao Cao is still watching the table. How much he can see, or otherwise perceive, I don’t know, but he certainly seems to think he’ll accomplish something by continuing to stare at my evidence pile. I’m not confident enough he’s wrong to find out.

I need something to distract him with.

My first instinct is to throw something to make a noise, it’s a classic for a reason. From what I’ve seen of Cao Cao though I doubt it would work. A single sound of impact doesn’t really sound like somebody moving around. He’s more likely to look for where the thrown object might have come from.

So what I need is some way to make the sound of something heavy moving for a moment. And the sound needs to come from someplace far enough away from me to get them out of the way while looking for it. So I can’t be anywhere near either the beginning or the end of it’s arc. Not to mention I don’t have anything to throw up... here...

With an inaudible groan I thump my forehead against the steel beam I’m clinging to.

I have telekinesis.

I don’t have to be anywhere near anything I want to throw. After this I’m really going to have to take some time to get familiar with all the new abilities I’ve been picking up. Fortunately after this is done with, I’ll have about a year to settle in with not a lot else to do, before canon starts.

But first I need to both succeed here and get out alive.

Which is part of succeeding.

Picking a likely looking hand held sized object, I think it’s hand radio or something, I pull back the bow string in my head. I still haven’t really played with my telekinesis enough to have a clear idea how much energy leads to what result with different weights of objects. I also don’t have a clear idea of how much my target object weighed. I don’t have much mana left either.

Well, fuck it. I’d rather overshoot than under shoot right now. I pull the string back as far as I can, dumping all the mana I have left to spare into the building potential energy. I take an extra moment to aim, then let go.

The potential energy I’ve sunk into the radio snaps into kinetic energy, and the device goes sailing across the room.

It turns out that I have over shot, but not as much as I’d been afraid of. The radio hits the warehouse wall with a bang, ricochets into a pile of other goods, and proceeds to trigger a small avalanche.

The big one stops talking, and both of their heads snap around to look in the direction of the noise.

“Fucker’s trying to run!” The big guy shouts, and heads in the direction of my distraction as quickly as he can in the dark and over the uncertain footing.

“Probably, if they have any sense.” Cao Cao though isn’t looking in the direction of the noise. He’s turning to look in the direction that I’d launched the hand radio from, “Check that out.” He says slowly ignoring that his large companion has already started in that direction, “I’ll make sure it’s not a trick...”

I watch from above as the big guy stomps his way unsteadily across tall piles of supplies, at the same time Cao Cao heads in the opposite direction looking for whoever had thrown something to create the noise.

Both of them marching away from each other.

Both of their backs are facing the center table and my evidence.

I’m not going to get a better chance than this.

I drop from the ceiling landing as quietly as I can, relying on the noise the big guy is making with his stomping steps, and my armor absorbing most of the impact to be quiet enough to be missed. As soon as my boots touch the ground I rush to the table. My night vision and cat reflexes let me pick out what look like the most stable areas, and even when I’m wrong I make less noise than the stumbling, stomping, cursing form of the big guy.

It feels like an eternity, but can only have been a few moments before I reach the table. My evidence is a little scattered, but the papers and files are easy enough to quickly scrape back together. The moment I have them all bundled I run for the nearest exit.

The nearest exit, now clearly visible with the longer sight lines, is a fire exit in one wall. An exit easily spotted because, by some miracle of chance or superior engineering, the emergency exit sign over it is still lit.

I make it maybe three or four steps when something screams danger in the back of my head and I spin, pulling Sclamhaire and slashing at a diagonal across my body. Something, the sound of parting air, or the blaze on the edge of my mana sense, has sent me moving in desperate reflex. Sclamhaire’s blade meets the haft of that terrifying spear that Cao Cao carries right behind the spear head.

Mana blazes from the spear, and Sclamhaire drinks it down like water. The muscles in my arm scream in agony, and I can feel them tearing with the effort of knocking the spear off course. Mana rushes into me filling up my mana network in a moment, and then overflowing it. My armor does it’s job, my blazing wings springing to life, dumping the excess mana as fast as it can, but Sclamhaire drinks more down even faster. The spear seems to have an infinite supply of power and force.

Given that, I’m shocked to see that the spear has been thrown.

The damn thing has an impossible amount of inertia.

With a short scream of effort I just manage to divert the spear, and only just enough for it to skip off my pauldron instead of punching through my chest. Even that grazing contact is enough for me to be knocked sideways off my feet.

“Heracles! Get them!” What? I can’t have heard that right...

Focus Ericka, be shocked later.

I’ve almost been out of mana when I dropped to the floor to collect my evidence. Now though I’m overflowing with it. The brief contact between Sclamhaire and the spear had been enough to overwhelm my armor’s venting mechanism, and I can feel the pressure of the mana pounding against the inside of my skin. I wouldn’t be surprised to find I’m cracking again under my armor.

I wrap my glamor around myself, the illusion of my absence takes even more mana than it usually does because of the brilliant energy that forms my wings. Which I can only think of as a good thing right now since it helps me drain the almost lethal over abundance of mana faster.

I have to keep moving though. Cao Cao is the sort of person that will check the last place he’d seen me, just in case I’m still there. I bend my legs under me and with a careful leap, I fling myself onto the table in the middle of the room, landing roughly on my side. It’s the only place where my movement won't be immediately obvious thanks to disturbing the mess thats covering the ground.

Still, if I don’t give Cao Cao something else to focus on he’ll check here next. Both of them are rushing towards where I’d been, a place marked by Cao Cao’s spear of doom having sunk it’s entire blade into the concrete floor of the warehouse, and having created a clear space, the impact blowing back all the loose objects in the immediate vicinity.

Glancing past that I see my exit...

Which gives me an idea.

I pull back my mental bowstring and let it go in the same thought. The emergency exit door slams open letting in a blinding beam of light that makes all three of us flinch back from the sudden increase in brightness.

“Fuck! They’re getting away!” Heracles bellows, and charges for the door. Subtlety apparently abandoned as he plows straight through the piles of supplies, the remnants of crates, and the door. Which is spontaneously enlarged by about a foot in every direction at his passage.  
Cao Cao quietly cursing, at me or his companion I can’t tell, pauses only long enough to retrieve the Spear of Doom before following.

He pauses again at the door long enough to scan the warehouse with a frown, “Divine Dividing?” he murmurs, but an angry bellow from outside has him following his companion quickly enough.

I let my head thud silently against the table as I just breath for a long few moments. I’ll give it a few minutes for them to get far enough away from the warehouse to minimize any risk. I glance down at the stack of papers clutched to my chest in my left arm. Mia’s face looks back at me from her file at the top of the stack.

Well, at least I have some reading to pass the time.

###

I follow along behind Mia as we cross the roof tops heading at a decent clip towards the Youkai’s hidden forest to report what we’ve found. Watching her though I can’t help but wonder how much I really understand about what’s going on.

I’ve thought more than once that there’s something odd about Mia. I only had time to skim the file that Cao Cao and Heracles, and what the fuck is up with that anyway, have assembled on her, but even that much tells me I’m right.

So very, very right.

Mia is an agent of the Yokai faction. Specifically she’s a spy for the palace guard. Her job is to find potential threats to the Yokai in general, and Yasaka and Kunou specifically, before they actually become a problem. Given this I have doubts that her finding me in Crow’s Coffee is as much of an accident as she led me to believe.

A spy finding me the first time I’m out in public for any length of time after assaulting and plucking another Tengu?

Yeah, I’m not buying it.

On the other hand it does explain a lot. How she snuck up on me, how she handled the negotiations over trust, how she found the warehouse so damn quickly. It’s her job to find things like this quickly.

Really the only wonder is that she needed me to tip her off to the conspiracy at all.

Though the only reason I know about it is that I’d absorbed enough about the TV show via osmosis through the internet to know it’s coming. So I guess I can’t really judge how well they’re hidden.

Mia’s role also explains why she just happened to have a technique, or power, that seems specifically designed to block her from casual discovery by mana senses. Mana breathing, or senjutsu as they call it here, is more common among Yokai than just about anywhere else. Of course somebody who expects to be sneaking around them a lot has a way to hide from them.

After I escaped from the warehouse I’d taken refuge on the roof of another one several blocks away, to give myself a chance to finish venting the excess mana in my body. Also to give myself a chance to heal the wounds that I’d suffered from that excess. Mia found me almost immediately, and I’d given her the files I’d collected to look over. The speed with which she found me made me glad that after skimming her file I’d stuffed it into the middle of the stack before leaving the warehouse, so there shouldn’t be any indication that I’d looked at it at all.

Although given what she is, I have no idea if Mia was fooled, or if I made some error that I just don’t have the experience to notice.

Mia though doesn’t react to the existence of her file. Which isn’t to say she doesn’t have a reaction at all. As she looked through what I collected her expression becomes increasingly dark, and her scent slowly becomes one of guilt, shock, and increasingly as she reads on, fury. She wastes no time in leading us to the nearest entrance to the hidden forest.

One of the things that I haven’t figured out yet in this insane plan of mine, is how exactly I’m going to get into the Yokai forest, and after that get an audience with Yasaka. I put off figuring out the answer to these questions as something I could figure out when the time came. After all, getting in to talk to Yasaka would hardly matter if I can’t find evidence of the coup in the first place.

Now though I doubt it will be a problem.

Mia darts down to the street level, dropping ten floors into an alleyway that’s about as well hidden as we can hope for in the middle of morning rush hour.

She leads the way across the street, darting across during a lull in traffic and following behind her I can’t help but wonder what the drivers think seeing me in full armor.

Cosplay probably.

Our destination turns out to be an art gallery. A large almost antiseptic white space lined with paintings, each one has a small white tag just under them. Probably talking about the title of the piece, who made it, and a bunch of other things that wouldn’t make any sense to me. Mia ignores all of it, and makes a beeline for the back of the gallery.

Half way through though we’re stopped by a tall, well dressed woman that smells strongly of snakes. It puts my hackles up for a moment, remembering the Stray I’d fought in China, before I remind myself that there are plenty of snake things in the world that aren’t that Stray Devil.

Actual snakes for instance.

The woman pauses a few feet away, and Mia motions for me to hold back as she goes forward to talk to the snake lady. They speak softly, probably assuming that I have normal human hearing. I don’t think I’ve displayed anything to Mia that might imply otherwise. Out of respect for the future, hopefully friendly, relations between myself and the Yokai, I try not to listen in on their conversation.

I might have memorized a series of nonsense phrases that sounded like challenge and response passwords though.

Entirely by accident of course.

After a couple of minutes of back and forth, during which they talk about whether or not I’m allowed in the forest, even with an escort, and I spend my time looking at a portrait that most humans would call fantastical, we’re waved through.

I bet that’s a remarkably accurate rendering of a Kappa though.

Mia leads me to a door in the back of the gallery that I don’t notice until the Tengu opens it. On the other side instead of an alleyway, or a street, or even another building, is a dense forest.

The forest honestly gives me the same feeling as the redwood forests I’d grown up with in California. The trees aren’t as tall, or as big around, but they are spaced a decent ways apart, and the canopy covers everything anyway. The ground is covered with fallen leaves and other detritus. Anywhere sun penetrates the canopy green sprouts in the form of grass, ferns, or occasionally wildflowers. In front of us is a dirt path that vanishes into the trees remarkably quickly for how open the forest floor seems. As soon as we set foot on that path Mia speeds her deliberately casual pace to a determinedly fast walk.

After a few moments I can’t hold the question in any longer, “So... you clearly want to get to where we’re going as quickly as possible, so why aren’t we running? I can probably keep up with you, you know.” Tengu aren’t known for their running speed, so I might even be faster in a straight line.

“Well... running through the forest isn’t a great idea for a couple of reasons.” The forest is behaving in odd ways. Distance changes too fast or too slowly. The terrain seems to twist and alter out of the corner of my eye.

Generations of Yokai and nine tailed foxes have layered this forest with defensive illusions to confuse and lead astray the unwelcome. It might have been disturbing to watch, but it’s not nearly as viscerally upsetting as the few glimpses I’ve gotten of Faerie without the illusions. So by and large it doesn’t bother me. Just another thing to keep in mind if everything goes to hell.

Mia’s still explaining things though, so I try to focus on that, “The first is that each kind of Yokai has their own territory inside the forest. It helps to keep inter species conflict to a minimum, but sprinting through multiple territories tends to make folks jumpy and nervous. So we try not to unless we really have to. While what you’ve found is important, it's not the sort of important that will get worse if we wait a few minutes, so we can take the time to not cause problems.”

I nod along, the explanation makes at least superficial sense, “What’s the second reason?”

“We’re almost at the palace, and running into a secure zone without warning is likely to get you shot. Or set on fire. Or... you get the idea.”

We’re almost at the palace? We’ve been walking for like five minutes. How close did we start?

As though feeling my questions Mia points ahead. I look up just as we emerge out of the forest to see the towering walls of a Japanese castle. There’s a good football field of clear space between the tree line and the wall, and on top of the wall all manner of beings move in slightly overlapping patrols, most of them carrying long rifles of some sort. The ones that don’t, burn with enough mana that I can feel it from here.

I don’t know guns well, but one or two of those guys have mana in amounts that remind me vaguely of some of Pua’s gourds. Considering she keeps the Power of Destruction and a hurricane in her gourds, even a minimal similarity is enough to make me cautious. Several of them sight on us as Mia continues to lead us forward towards the gate.

Yeah, I got the idea.

###

The waiting room for Yasaka’s throne room is large, lavish, and designed to either impress or intimidate. At the moment I bet she’s going for intimidation. Just a guess, but the number of guards also in the room watching me make me fairly confident.

I’m not sure why though.

Mia has already gone in before me, though she left the evidence with me. I’m apparently the better person to explain what’s going on since I actually know all the details, and have seen at least two of the conspirators.

I’m not sure I buy that explanation, but I figure it’ll also give me a better chance of getting what I want out of all of this, so I’ll go along with it. I’ve been waiting for nearly half an hour though and I’m beginning to get nervous.

Has something gone wrong?

I have no idea what that would be though. Mia works for Yasaka, doing precisely what we had done. I really can’t imagine what any theoretical issue might...

The large double doors swing open and the... herald?

Butler?

Door guy.

The door guy waves me through. The room is huge, rows of pillars on either side of the room form a natural corridor leading to the throne. The space in between those pillars and the actual walls of the room are lined with guards. Guards that are wearing full body covering armor that manage to look traditional, while still having modern materials worked in. I bet every bit of them is enchanted too. Though I can’t really tell the difference between the guards mana, and anything that might be on their equipment.

The throne itself is a simple red lacquered chair sitting on a raised dais set into an alcove at the far end of the huge room, and is surrounded by its own curtain of protective mana. At the bottom of the dais, and outside the protections, stands Mia looking frustrated, and apologetic when she glances at me.

Standing on the dais inside the protections is a large man with the head of a tiger, and dressed in fine blue robes. He has his ears pinned back and is snarling at Mia. Something that only gets worse when he lays eyes on me.

Sitting on the throne is Yasaka herself. She’s dressed in rich, pure white robes, her golden hair is done up in an elaborate style, fox ears poking free of it in an obviously deliberate fashion, and nine gold furred fox tails spread out behind her like a fan. I’m kind of relieved to see that the robes are as modest as the historical ones they’re modeled after. Something that has never been part of her character design in the anime.

Not that even modest Japanese robes do much to hide her... vast tracts of land.

I have to leave Sclamhaire and my athame at a table by the door. I’m not exactly happy about that. Letting any of my equipment, and especially Sclamhaire, get too far from me hurts. Still I don’t have much choice in the matter, and I figure it’s best not to keep Yasaka waiting. So I draw the blades instead of taking the time to detach their sheaths. Something that I almost regret as every guard in the room twitches as I pull Sclamhaire free. They calm down as I lay her down on the provided table though.

A table that I really hope isn’t too expensive or important, as the moment Sclamhaire’s naked blade touches the table it begins to frost over. The lacquer finish on the table is already beginning to crack and flake by the time I put the athame down. I glance at door guy to see if he wants me to do something different with my sword, but he doesn't even glance in my direction.

So I guess it’s fine then?

With a mental shrug I head down the pillar marked corridor.

It’s not my table.

I stop a good few yards back from the dais at a subtle hand signal from Mia, and bow as best I can. Unfortunately, Allspeak doesn’t cover etiquette. I know I’m doing it wrong, but I’m an uncouth foreigner who can’t be expected to know the intricacies of proper civilized bowing, so hopefully it won’t be a thing.

“Yasaka-sama, may I present...” Mia at least still appears to be on my side so that didn’t go wrong, before she can get any further though she’s interrupted.

“I know who she is.” Yasaka’s voice is pleasant with a slightly husky quality. A quality that reminds me that Kitsune have frequently been depicted as seductresses.

Though, I’m really beginning to wonder if there are any female supernaturals that aren’t.

Hags maybe?

What really surprises me though, is the flat almost hostile tone she spoke with.

With a slight frown I examine her more closely, and start noticing things that I really should have picked up on earlier. Her ears are twitching, as though constantly trying to lay flat, only to be forced up right again. Her jaw is clenched, the muscles twitching from the constant effort. Lastly she’s gripping the arms of her throne hard enough that her knuckles are turning white.

Her entire demeanor is hostile, though restrained.

It goes well with the icy glare she’s giving me.

“Why are you here Murder Witch?”

...

What?


	25. Book 1 - Coup D'etat

“Why are you here, Murder Witch?” Yasaka glares at me like she’s trying to set me on fire with her gaze alone. Given a Kitsune’s connection to fire, I’m kind of worried she’ll pull it off.

Still...

What?

And did I hear capital letters on ‘Murder Witch’? Is that a thing? If it’s a thing, why hasn't anybody told me? It seems like Vivain at least would have gotten around enough, and lived long enough to have seen a ‘Murder Witch’ before. Especially if Yasaka, who I recall being unable to travel due to her connection to the Kyoto ley node, knows what one is.

Perhaps inappropriately, I felt kind of... disappointed?

I thought I’d invented something new!

I guess rediscovering something isn’t bad either, but it’s really not the same...

Focus.

“I... came to do you a favor?” I offer not hiding my confusion. The tiger man growls, and Yasaka glares harder, “Sure, one I hope will be returned, but I’m going to do you that favor either way.”

The tiger man growls again, and takes a step forward, “You wish to do us a favor? Why would we believe that? Wherever you go you go you leave a trail of blood and bodies behind you. Now you’re here.”

“Why?” Yasaka demands through gritted teeth.

Something bothers me about that tiger guy. I know I’ve never seen him before, so I have no idea what the issue is. Something keeps bugging me about him, though. I stare at him for a moment from the safety of the inside of my hood...

They’re talking to some asshole who looks like the grim reaper aren’t they?

Really need to get used to all of this.

I reach up, push back my hood, and pull down my mask. Yasaka blinks, her hostility seeming to stutter, halting for a moment, Tiger guy looks frustrated.

Really, what the hell is up with him?

I sigh, “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

And now all of them, even Mia, are looking at me like they don’t believe a word I’m saying.

Tiger dude snarls, “Are you claiming that in the last three months you have not killed, two trolls, a flock of sirens, a coven’s worth of fledgling vampires, five young dragons, a stray devil, and one of the kue jin?”

I blink. Wow, has it only been three months? It feels longer.

“And that you have not gained power from these deaths?” Yasaka growls, straightening in her seat as though making a point, “Everywhere you go you leave corpses, and now you are here.” She sneers, an expression that really doesn’t look good on her, “The research my advisor has done is quite conclusive. I would not even bother with this conversation, and instead have you executed on principle, if it were not for my agent’s instance that we here you out.” Tiger man looks even more frustrated at that. I have a sneaking feeling I know what the half hour wait had been about, “Now, which of my people have you come to murder?” Yasaka surges to her feet glaring down at me as she spoke, her voice rising to an almost, but not quite, shout.

I do my best not to react to the death threat. No matter how much my instincts tell me to go on the attack, to remove the threat. I mean come on! Did they have to make me sound like a serial killer?

Although I guess it does sound like I’m escalating...

Which I’m, the more traits I steal, the more powerful targets I can go after to get more traits.

And like I might have come to Japan specifically to kill a lot of yokai...

Which I did, the more Tengu talent I get the better, and they were all going to be executed anyway.

So I guess she’s sort of right?

But also completely wrong!

And the ways she’s wrong are more important than the ways she’s right!

...How did they find out about all of this anyway? I’m pretty low key, and nobody I’d offed was important enough for their deaths to be something that they’d have heard of half way around the world. So how had they found out?

They also hadn’t mentioned the Tuatha de Danann Sidhe I’d killed...

So what’s different about the Sidhe? What separates that one from the rest of them? Sure, the Tuatha wouldn’t advertise that they’d lost a noble to a random mortal. But there wouldn't be anybody to complain about the trolls or Sirens at all.

It’s not the location, I was there looking for the trolls after all...

I hadn’t gone looking for the Sidhe.

He found me because I smell like Cait, or something. Still have no idea what that’s about. Every other thing they’d mentioned I found through the little spirits. Well, except for the dragons, but Pua deals with the little spirits as much, if not more, than I do. They were probably chowing down on spirit popcorn, and just watching the show with the Mo’o.

The little spirits are also the most prolific gossips in the world. Especially about things they like, and they love me. All the Yokai would have to do is ask, and they could probably find some dozen little spirits willing to wax poetic about me for hours.

And I’m the one that basically told Mia who to ask!

That’s it. I’m never volunteering any information ever again, no matter how much fun the reveal would be.

“I...” I speak slowly, not really certain how to deal with this. In the show from what I remember Yasaka was really laid back and friendly. Too friendly really, her desire to live in harmony with humans being a large part of why her people are rebelling, “will admit that I’m hoping you’ll let me take advantage of something that should be happening anyway.”

“And what is that?” Yasaka demands, sitting down and calming slightly. Though I also notice that she doesn’t need to force her ears to stay up any more.

“Does it really matter Yasaka-Sama?” Tiger man broke in smoothly, “She has admitted that she came here seeking our deaths, and her past actions, which she has also admitted to, condemn her even more.” I’m really beginning to dislike this guy.

And really, what am I missing about him? It’s driving me nuts!

Mia rounds on Tiger-man, glaring at him through the protections surrounding him and Yasaka, “Only if you take the most superficial look at her history, and interpret it in the worst possible way!”

“Your strange attachment to this mass murderer only casts greater doubt on your judgement,” Tiger-man snarls in the most condescending manner possible.

“My judgement...” Mia nearly shrieks back, black feathers beginning to sprout from her visible skin.

“Look,” I cut in quickly, this has the look of an argument that could go on for hours, “I’ll be happy to debate ethics with you later, and you two can have whatever pissing contest this is some other time as well. We do have more important things to go over, like what brought me here in the first place?” I glare at Mia for getting distracted, my patience is running very thin at this point. I want to save a kid! Why is this so fucking hard?

“As if we would care about whatever twisted justification...” Tiger guy starts in that condescending, and dismissive tone again.

My patience snaps.

“Shut up.” In my frustration a trickle of mana leaks into my voice, causing my words to ring through the air like a giant bell.

Cool, I didn’t know I could do that.

I take a few large steps forward, and grab the piece of paper that I left on top of the loose papers that aren’t part of a file, the kid’s schedule and planned movement routes. Most of the guards have their swords half drawn by the time I slap it against the mana curtain surrounding the dais so Yasaka can see it.

The tiger, moments after I put the paper up against the barrier, darts between me and Yasaka, “How dare you approach Yasaka-Sama! If your little scrap of paper is really so important then I will investigate it and report to her on anything of significance.” He declares with offended, and slightly frantic for some reason, superiority.

I glare up at him, “You seem awfully determined to keep Yasaka away from something that concerns the safety of her daughter.”

“What?” Came Yasaka’s shriek from behind the large tiger, “Parminder, step back.”

The tiger, Parminder apparently, snarls at me, but does step back to his position just to the side and behind Yasaka. Though, he does seem to be standing closer to her than he had been when I came in.

Probably feeling protective since I’m so much closer than I’m supposed to be.

Yasaka leans forward in her seat to get a better look at the paper, “What is that?”

“I could be wrong, but it looks like your daughter's daily schedule and planned routes.” I say with a shrug.

The fox jerks upright as though she’s been slapped, “Where did you get that?” She hisses, nearly vibrating with fury.

“I got it from a couple of guys in a warehouse that Mia ran down for me.” I tell her with forced casualness, “What you really ought to be asking is, where did they get it.”

“What are you implying?” The anger has fled Yasaka, and she’s beginning to look sick.

“Well somebody had to give it to them. I imagine that the list of people who have access to this information in the first place is rather small. That’s not even considering everything else they had.” I hold up the stack of paper and files, “Like maps of the palace and forest, patrol schedules, profiles on important people in your court, and analysis of the wards and illusions set up here and around the forest.”

“I know what that sounds like to me Yasaka-Sama.” Mia volunteers.

The tiger man, Parminder, looks grim. Which is the first time since I’ve met him that he’s actually responding correctly to the situation.

And why does he bug me so much?

I’ve never seen him before! I know nothing about him...

I glance down at the large stack of files in my arms.

I’ve never seen him before, and know nothing about him.

He doesn’t have a file.

Why doesn’t he have a file?

He’s important and trusted enough to be inside Yasaka’s protections when she’s meeting somebody sketchy. Which I can admit I am from their point of view. It’s why I worked so hard to have evidence before I came anywhere near them.

But Parminder, given his apparent status, is almost guaranteed to be right next to Yasaka whenever they kick off the coup attempt! So why didn’t they find everything they could about the guy? I refuse to believe that there’s nothing to find.

I look up at the tiger again, just in time to see him nod slightly at somebody behind me. I feel something grab a part of me that I normally don’t feel anything with. Which is bizarre because it’s also a part of me not attached to the rest of me.

The proverbial penny drops about the same time as somebody screams in agony behind me, and Parminder lunges forward to wrap an arm around Yasaka’s neck. He levers her chin up, twists her neck to what looks like a painful angle, and lays a knife across the fox woman’s throat.

Parminder doesn’t have a file because they don’t need one on him. Fucker is in on it! He’s part of the god damned coup!

He’s also clearly never cut a throat before. His technique is terrible.

###

Every guard in the room takes a half step forward, and reaches for their swords, at almost the same time, they also stop moving after that half step at almost the same time. Really it looked rehearsed. I see this out of the corner of my eye, and via my ears as I keep my eyes fixed on the knife at Yasaka’s throat. If I can find the right angle, a bit of telekinesis would at least solve one problem.

Parminder is staring at the far end of the hall looking absolutely furious, “Anant!” He yells with a tinge of panic, and snaps his gaze back to me snarling, “What did you do! What did you do to my son?” He demands almost unintelligible in fury.

I casually turn my head to look at where the scream has trailed off to a faint pained whimpering. At the far end of the hall is another tiger man, this one looks somewhat younger than the one holding his leader hostage, though there’s a clear resemblance. What really attracts my attention though, is that the new tiger boy, Anat I guess, has tried to pick up Sclamhaire.

I’m morbidly fascinated to see that the hand he’s gripped Sclamhaire’s hilt with has frozen solid, and was in the process of turning black. The frost is climbing up his arm at a very quick pace, even his clothing is freezing and coming apart where it touches parts of him already affected. The crystal which serves as Sclamhaire’s pommel stone, is usually almost perfectly crystal clear, now though it’s blazing with light. That light seems to be making things worse for the thief, as where it lands on the frozen parts of him, those parts start to crack and break.

Thermal shock is a hell of a thing.

A morbid part of me wants to just keep watching him. Just to see what happens. For science.

I have other concerns though.

Science would have to come later.

As I turn back to the hostage situation I run my eyes over the guards. How many of them are still loyal to Yasaka? How many are part of the coup, and just biding their time? I pick out all the ones with odd conically shaped face plates, figuring that they’re probably Tengu.

Finally I return my gaze to Parminder, flipping my hood up as I do, and shrug, “I didn’t do anything. Sclamhaire doesn’t really like being touched though. She’s picky like that.”

Parminder snarls something at me but I’m not really listening any more. I glance at Mia under the cover of my hood. She has her eyes locked on the situation on the other side of the mana curtain as well. She’s produced two wakizashi from somewhere, and is gripping them hard enough for her knuckles to turn white.

She seems ready to act though.

I turn my attention back to the hostage taker just in time for him to scream, “Are you even listening to me?”

I blink at him once, a gesture lost under the hood, “Honestly, no.” I tell him cheerfully, and pull up my face mask, “I had more important things on my mind.”

Mia glances at me with a frown, Parminder stares at me incredulously, and I’m pretty sure that even Yasaka is glaring at me out of the corner of her eye.

“What could you possibly have to think about that’s more important than this?” The tiger demands.

I’ll admit that some part of me wants to trade quips with him like the lead in an action movie, ‘cause really, what kid never wanted to be the quipping hero that saves the day? But this is reality, not an action movie, so it seems like a really bad idea. Besides, showing is better than telling right?

The bow string in my head pulls back and snaps forward, launching the knife out of Parminder’s hand, and burying it up to the hilt in the decorative wooden siding. As soon as I let go of the string, I spin already pulling the string back again much harder, and let it go with the same thought.

Anant, the tiger thief, screams again, his hand and most of his arm shatters as Sclamhaire rips free of his frozen grip. His arm comes apart like it’s made of tofu instead of flesh, and he crashes to the ground sobbing.

I don’t have to look to target Sclamhaire, and send her flying through the air right to me. Just like I don’t have to look to know where to put my hand so that her hilt smacks perfectly into it.

I finish my spin ready to try and cut through the mana curtain surrounding the dais to rescue Yasaka. Only to find that she really doesn’t need the help. I come around just in time to see her tails fling the tiger man into the back of the alcove hard. She turns slowly to look at him, a blue flame igniting to hover just over the tip of each of her tails. The thin disguise of her humanity begins to tear away as her face elongates into a muzzle, and gold colored fur begin to sprout from her skin.

Parminder managed to get his voice back and yell, “What are you waiting for, get her!” Before Yasaka is on him and all he does is scream and burn.

The hall though explodes into chaos.

Two thirds of the guards turn on their fellows without warning. The ones that aren’t occupied stalling the other guards rush me and Mia. Or rather they rush the dais where their boss is being burned alive by a pissed off mama fox. Mia and I though, are in between them and said boss, so they have to go through us first.

As the one in armor, I step forward to confront the first traitor guards to arrive. It’s impossible to tell for certain through the armor, but judging by the large size of him and that instead of a sword he swings a tetsubo, studded club, at me I’m betting on him being an oni. I might have been able to match him strength for strength, but even if I can that just sounds exhausting, and likely to end with me getting early flying lessons.

Instead I bring Sclamhaire forcefully to center guard position, smacking his club off line and letting it crash into the floor next to me, instead of pounding me into the floor like a nail. Taking advantage of his over commitment I roll Sclamhaire over the top of the tetsubo so she’s parallel to the floor, then swing up for the gap between chest armor and helmet. Sclamhaire cuts through his gorget without slowing down, or me even noticing aside from the odd sound of cleanly shearing mettle, and drinks down the oni’s life as his head comes off.

Stepping around the large falling corpse, and feeling the mana that Sclamhaire has just fed me rushing through my system, I do go strength for strength with my next opponent. The hint of a shell on their back makes me think Kappa. They’re shorter than me though, and have a sword, so flowing from my last kill I brought Sclamhaire down on an angle to flatly impact their blocking sword as hard as I can. I get two rushes of mana from that one, the first from cutting through their sword, and the second when Sclamhaire shears through their armor and splits them from shoulder to navel.

I free Sclamhaire from the body by using her to sling the corpse out of the way, so I won’t have to fight around it. I find my next opponent, and feel a twinge of anxiety. They have the odd conical face plate that makes me suspect they’re a Tengu. The way they hold their sword, the same indescribable comfort with it that I had seen Tengu display at the SCA practice, tells me I’m right.

I swear silently under my breath.

I’ve gone out of my way to not get into a physical confrontation with any Tengu. I might be stronger than them, but skill beats strength every time, and in that category I’m hilariously outclassed by any of the bird demons. The one coming for me though doesn’t really give me any chance to think of a way out of it though.

I block the first two strikes on sheer instinct and luck, they come too fast for me to really track, and as soon as I have the Tengu steps back. Behind them I can see another several headed my way and swear to myself again. I really don’t want to fight more than one person at a time, I’ve never done it before, and every instructor I’ve ever had told me that it’s a losing proposition. Doing so for the first time vs several Tengu sounds like the last mistake I’d ever make.

I check with my ears to see if Mia might be available to save my ass, and find that she’s fighting off three of her kin on her own. Her dual short swords making her into a walking blender, the four corpses at her feet speaking to how much better than me she’s doing.

Still she clearly had her own problems, I’m on my own.

The next exchange doesn’t go nearly as well. I block the first swing to my shoulder again, and even manage to get in a counter swing, just to try and keep them back. Unfortunately they’re apparently waiting for that and slip around my swing to bring their sword down on my elbow and knee in rapid succession.

The only reason I’m not testing my troll granted ability to regrow limbs is because my armor takes the blows without trouble. So well in fact that I don’t even feel the impact. The traitor guard takes that as a challenge, they lean around my attempt at a counter, and lunge forward faster than I can respond with a thrust aimed for my hood. I manage to lean enough out of the way that their sword scrapes across my face mask, and gets caught in my hood instead of cutting out my eyes.

I nearly take their arm off on my back swing, with their sword stuck in the thin cloth that acts like an inch thick metal plate to anybody not me. They let go of their sword with one hand though causing me to miss, and they recover before I get another swing off. I take another three hits to my leg, ribs, and head in retaliation though, as they dart in and out of my range. Baiting my sword into the wrong position, over and over again as I frantically try to block phantom strikes that they seem able to make me hallucinate at will.

This is pretty much what I was afraid of when I thought of fighting a Tengu. I’m completely outclassed, and unless I do something soon they’re going to figure out how to stab me in the eye, and that’ll be the end of it.

What do I have to work with?

A stab to my foot, followed by an uppercut that scrapes along my breastplate staggers me back a step.

A scream is my go to, but it would debilitate Mia as much as everybody else.

A sword bounces off the top of my hood, and then it’s point scrapes across my gorget, forcing me back again.

Telekinesis? How would that work in melee?

This is what I get for not really practicing with my powers.

Fuck it. I’ll make it up as I go, that’s worked for me so far.

Mostly.

I swing down at them hard. It’s an obvious swing, and no faster than anything else I’ve done so I expect them to doge with the same ease they’ve dodged everything else. This time though just as they begin to move, I pluck my mental bow string, and one of their feet slide out from underneath them.

It isn’t much, they only stumble for a moment, and most likely would have recovered with the same grace that they’ve managed everything else in this fight. Before they can though, at the worst possible moment really, Sclamhaire hits their sword. Her light eating blade cuts the well made katana in half, in a manner that I believe the Mythbusters proved is impossible, then goes on to split them in half from shoulder to hip.

The next guard about to arrive is also a Tengu, and I really don’t feel like getting used as a pinata again. So I pull the string way back, and launch the oncoming traitor guard into the two coming right behind them, hard enough to send them flying clear across the hall and through one of the decorative wooden pillars.

At least I hope they’re decorative.

That gets me some breathing room, so I take the opportunity to take a look around. The battle between the traitor and loyal guards... is anybody’s guess. I have no way to tell the difference between those trying to protect Yasaka, and those trying to capture her, so no way to tell who’s winning.

Mia is playing with her three... though, I think that they might be a different three than the ones she was fighting the last time I looked. A plucked mental string rips one of their swords out of their hands, something that Mia wastes no time in capitalizing on. Which somehow allows her to take out two of them at almost the same time.

Would love to know how she did that.

Maybe if I ask really nicely?

Parminder is a large and vaguely tiger man shaped chunk of carbon, sitting on the floor where Yasaka had flung him. As for the lady fox herself, she’s directing a column of blue flame as big around as a beach ball into the mana curtain. A curtain which apparently does as much to keep her in, as us out.

I was wondering why she hadn’t joined us yet.

I take a couple of steps, and swing Sclamhaire down on the mana curtain, after making sure I won’t get hit by fox fire if this works. Sclamhaire slides into the barrier without resistance, sucking down mana as long as she’s in contact with the curtain. The barrier doesn’t break though. Weakened certainly, but unfortunately doesn’t shatter. I’d just stick Sclamhaire through it and wait, but there are more traitor guards on the way and I really can’t lose my weapon like that.

I’m trying to figure out what to do next, when a bit of movement catches my eye. I look down to find the papers and files I dropped when all of this kicked off. One paper lay face down separate from the rest because of how I’d been holding it up against the curtain to show Yasaka...

That’s the kid’s schedule.

The kid that’s the actual point of all of this.

If Parminder had set off things early here, might they have set off the other parts of the coup as well? At least the parts they could do with no warning?

Like kidnapping a twelve year old girl that would be hustled off anyway as soon as there’s trouble?

Trouble like what’s happening right now?

I glance down the throne room, and grimace. The fighting is taking up the majority of the hall, and there’s no way I’ll be able to get down it in a hurry, especially not since I’ll be embroiled in the fighting again in a moment or two.

I can fix that though.

“Mia!” I shout over the din of mass battle, “They’re going after the kid! I’m gonna stop them. Cover your ears!”

Mia pales, I don’t know whether it’s from the idea that Kunou is likely being kidnapped as we speak, or at being subjected to my scream.

... Though I don’t think Mia’s ever been in position to see what I can do with my voice, so it’s probably the latter one. She covered her ears anyway. A plucked mental string had the palace map with Kunou’s travel, evacuation routes, and schedule on it in my hand. Facing forward I inhale deeply, and scream.

I try to keep most of the mana pointed forward to try and lessen the impact on Mia.

Not sure how well that works though.

All the lights blow out plunging the room into darkness. All the guards in the room clutch their ears and doubled over. Several fall over and, from the sound and I can smell, at least one person throws up. I don’t keep it up long enough for the wooden pillars to start splintering, and I don’t stick around to watch the aftermath of the first use of my voice directly on people.

I take off at my best sprint, shouldering shaky people out of my way as I go. One person, something large with the horns of a bull, seems to have either shaken off my scream faster than the rest, or been affected less in the first place. They step into my way like a closing gate, and set themselves to stop me.

I don’t slow down, or even break stride. Instead, I duck slightly, and slam my forearm between his legs as hard as I can. I actually lift him off the ground, and neatly toss him over my head to get him out of my way.

With that, I have a straight clear shot to the doors. A quick pluck of telekinesis snaps my athame into my hand, I hop over the one armed groaning tiger boy, and then I’m at the doors. I kick them as hard as I can and nearly take one off its hinges, splintering both around the latch.

Darting through them I’m into the hallways with working lights, so I look down at the map, trusting my ears to navigate me while my eyes are busy.

Now, if I was a fox kit in the midst of getting kidnapped, where would I be?


	26. Book 1 - Arial Arborial Power Fantasies

Finding where the little fox is supposed to be isn’t hard.

I have a map, and a schedule after all.

Unfortunately, I’m not the first one to find her. The classroom she’s supposed to be in is made of polished wood, antique furniture, and rice paper windows that match the hallways outside. What doesn’t match is the state of the room, wall hangings pulled down, desks overturned, several chairs smashed, and small char marks where something hot, like foxfire, had impacted the polished wooden walls and floor. The tutor, a kind of Japanese spirit known for handing out information on dark mystic influences, has been cut apart and left in a puddle of blood on the floor.

The blood is still fresh though, so they hadn’t died too long ago. So the kidnappers can’t have gotten too far. I step out of the classroom, and start down the hallway. The kidnappers haven’t gone the direction I’d come from, so they had to have left the other way.

The problem would come when I have more than two directions to choose from.

I jog down the hallway, looking for any more signs that the kidnappers and little kitsune had come this way, and quickly enough that problem appeared. The hallway I’m in dead ends into a T intersection. I grit my teeth in frustration, every moment I’m delayed makes finding the little fox that much less likely.

My first attempt to figure out which way to go is sniffing the air. Though I can smell fear, anger, feathers, something I recognize from the throne room which I assume is fox, and something else I don’t recognize, I still haven't figured out how dogs can get direction out of this mess.

Listening is my second try, but I can’t hear anything either, which doesn’t honestly surprise me.

That would have been too easy.

Finally, without much hope, I check my mana senses. A moment later a small smile curls my lips, and I head a few feet down the left hallway. I don’t sense anything about Kunou or her kidnappers, but I do sense something else that will probably help.

The walls of the palace are covered with decorations. Portraits, paintings, wall hangings, and the occasional antique chair or bench, among other things line the hallways and fill almost every room. What has attracted my attention is a mirror. For some reason, in Japan there’s a phenomenon where inanimate objects could, through a process that as far as I know nobody understood, gather mana, magic, whatever happens to be the energy of choice. When they gather enough, these objects would gain sentience and some minor shapeshifting. They would grow eyes, move independently, some could even communicate. Most are kinda cute, but there are also some that delight in ruining your day, one way or another.

This mirror has way too much mana to be just a simple object. Usually nobody thinks about the furniture when they’re trying to hide, hopefully that’s true this time as well, and just maybe the little spirits will come through for me again.

After standing in front of the mirror for a moment, my reflection reaches up and pulls down the hood and mask of her armor. Under the hood is my face, if I had horns, tusks, red skin, and generally looked mildly horrifying.

I smile, “Good one.” I tell my reflection, “Kind of a cliche though.”

My reflection narrows its eyes at me.

The horns and tusks retract, and the reflection’s skin tone goes from a bright blood red, to a deathly pale. All my hair falls out, which is the most alarming thing I’ve seen so far, I like my hair, and is replaced by a grid of pins that covers my head and face.

I shrug, “Never saw that one.”

My reflection snaps her fingers in disappointment.

“Sorry, look I’d love to stay and play with you for a while, but I’m in a hurry. Kunou, Yasaka’s kid, has been kidnapped...”

My reflection slaps both hands to her cheeks, and all the flesh on her face rots away to expose bone, as her jaw unhinges into a horrifying scream.

“Yeah, exactly. I need to catch up to them, did you see them go by here? There would have been at least one Tengu, probably a guard, and something else with her.”

My reflection snaps back to normal, and taps her bottom lip thinking for a moment. Then her hair grows even longer than mine, and stringy, hanging in lank clumps covering her face. She reaches down out of sight, and picks up a struggling sack, throws it over her shoulder, and starts pretending to walk to the right.

I grin, “They have her in a sack and headed that way?” I double check, and point down the turn of the intersection of hallways I hadn’t taken.

My reflection nods.

“Thanks little friend.”

My image in the mirror snaps back to the red skinned, horned and tusked look, and glares at me, planting her fists on her hips.

“Sorry, I guess while you’re reflecting me you’re not really little are you?”

My reflection nods satisfied and shoos me off.

That was a nice mirror.

...My life took a very strange turn somewhere, for that to be a completely reasonable sentence.

###

Perhaps unsurprisingly, there are a lot of little spirits in the Yokai palace. Most of them have heard of me, and are helpful, like the spirit that looks like a little boy with a bright red face and a bowl cut. He was hiding in a linen closet, and I needed to promise him a bowl of milk to get him to stop giggling and throwing rice at me and answer my questions. That’s about par for the course with the more mercurial little spirits, though.

The talking paper lantern that looked like a disembodied head was less helpful. I resorted to threatening to dunk him in a nearby pond, to get him to stop hitting on me long enough to tell me what he’d seen.

That ends up being the last bit of direction I need, though.

The directions the little spirits give me leads outside, the lantern is hanging on the outside of an exposed wooden walkway that faces out onto the palace gardens. The morning sun cast everything in an ethereal light, making the trees, lawns, water features and flower beds look peaceful and idyllic.

I would have believed the image presented, except that the lantern, once I managed to drag answers out of him, pointed me out into the gardens as the direction Kunou has been taken. So I start off down the garden paths, trying to find a good compromise between haste and caution. Kunou is still moving away from me, but out in the open there are a lot more choices as to where they might have gone. Taking off at a dead sprint in the wrong direction would be at least as bad as never catching up to them. My hearing though, in the more open environment, makes the entire concern moot.

Foxes, kits especially, can make the most god awful screeching noise imaginable. In terms of cringe factor, it’s right up there with pissed off cockatoos and nails on a chalkboard. It also carries fairly well, and makes said fox really easy to find.

I start hearing the noise moments after the palace, and the annoying lantern, are out of sight, and immediately take off after the sound at a sprint. I hurtle over a row of rose bushes, and nearly lose my footing on the gravel path that’s on the other side. Another leap takes me over a stream alongside the path, and lands me in a well cared for flower bed. I cringe momentarily, hearing my mother's voice in my head telling me off as I run through the delicate decorative flowers, no doubt trampling an unknowable number of plants as I go.

It’s all worth it though when I vault over a hedge, and land in an open field of grass surrounded by more flower beds, rows of cherry trees, and an open pagoda on the far side of the well manicured lawn.

Halfway across the field is exactly what I’m looking for. A Tengu guard in armor, walking alongside a hunched figure carrying a sack. The figure holding the sack is dressed in a brief shift made of rags, their hair is long and lank, falling in long greasy ropes that cover most of their face. Their nose is large and bulbous, splitting the curtain of oily hair enough to expose the glint of eye shine, and a wide mouth full of rotted crooked teeth framed by dry cracked lips. They’re large, but even so their arms and legs are long all out of proportion to their size. When they stop moving, their knees are even with the top of their head and when they walk their legs never fully straighten giving them an oddly smooth gait. Their arms are at least as long, and covered in ash grey flesh that seems to have the consistency of old leather.

I’m not exactly subtle coming over the hedge, both of the Yokai turn to look at me as I land. I start towards them as soon as my feet hit the ground, anger radiating from every step. The long limbed one with the thrashing sack looks down at the Tengu, and points at me with a long finger tipped by a thick, jagged, yellow nail and makes a bubbling warble that apparently doesn’t mean anything, since all I hear is noise.

The Tengu seems to extract some meaning from it though, and steps forward murmuring, “Yeah, I got it. Just keep going,” to their partner, before raising their voice to talk to me, “I don’t suppose I could convince you to just walk away, and pretend you didn’t see anything?”

“HELP!” the sack screams while continuing to thrash, “My mommy is gonna set you all on fire! Let me go!”

I don’t bother breaking stride, and the Tengu sighs, “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” The other Yokai turns back the direction they were heading, and keeps going. The traitor guard draws their sword, and sets themselves to fight me.

A fight which I’m not very enthusiastic about.

I’d barely won my last fight with a Tengu, and then only because they hadn’t found a way through my armor. Flinging them for distance won’t work, there are no convenient walls to slam them into, and just tossing them away only delays the problem. Launching them up won’t work either, Tengu have wings so the fall probably wouldn’t bother them. The more uncertain terrain will probably lead to the guard being more aware of their footing, so I’m not sure how well my ‘yanking on their foot’ trick will work here.

Fortunately I’ve trained in a lot of different styles of combat, I just need to pick one where sword skill matters less, and my advantages matter more.

I break into a sprint, and a few yards away from them I appear to vanish, I’m not here.

My disappearance throws the guard. I can’t really focus enough to try and hit someone while also being invisible, so I don’t. Instead I just don’t stop. Right before I run into them, I snap my mental bow string, dropping my glamor, and pull their back foot out to the side.

The Tengu guard stands maybe five foot five, and weighs, I guess a hundred and sixty pounds. Maybe less given how birds work. They’re wearing full body armor, made out of next generation ultra light super materials, that are probably enchanted to be even lighter, so they can fly with it.

I, on the other hand, am six feet and three inches of troll bone and muscle, wearing full plate armor, made out of fae metal that’s enchanted to only be light to me, and by the time I reach the Tengu if I’m not going freeway speeds I’m close.

I drop my shoulder, letting the guard’s sword scrape across my pauldron. It speaks to how ridiculous Tengu are, with only seconds to respond the guard starts trying to move to the side, recover their footing, and counter attack.

Not that it matters.

I hit the Tengu like the proverbial truck. A wet popping sound I recognize as breaking ribs fills my ears as I manage to lift and carry the Tengu a good three steps, before both of us crash to the ground. My tackle is sloppy as hell, my shoulder is nowhere near their solar plexus, which is where it should have been. Instead I land on my side next to them. Before I even finish hitting the ground, I’m scrambling for the other prone figure landing next to me.

I get to them first, likely due to their ribs having made a sound like popcorn not moments ago.

I fling myself into a mounted position, and fire four punches into the Tengu’s face like falling hammers. This seems to shock them into action, which is not the intended effect. They kept a hold of their sword through all of this, which is impressive really, and manage to half flail, half swing it, one armed, at my head.

It would have just bounced off my hood, but I block it forearm to forearm. Smoothly wrapping my arm around theirs, I roll to that side slinging a leg over their head landing them in a text book arm bar. A flex of my body, and their sword arm snaps at the elbow. Using the broken arm as a lever I roll the guard onto their stomach, and planted a foot on their back. With a jerk their shoulder pops out of its socket, finally making them drop their sword.

I hesitate for a moment. Chances are that if I leave the guard like this, they'll grab their sword, and come after me left handed. Which is a fight I’ll probably still lose.

Fuck it, they’re all going to be executed anyway.

I pull my athame free, and drive it into the back of the guards neck, through the gap between their helmet and the collar of their armor. Making sure in that moment I focus on the Tengu’s sword talent.

The athame flares to life, the guard's talent is ripped free and flows along my tattoos to settle in my soul. I don’t really have time to think about what I’d just gained through, talent won’t make much of a difference immediately anyway.

I look up from the fresh corpse, just in time to see the sack Kunou is trapped in vanish around the pagoda at the edge of the gardens. I ruin the lawn by digging my foot into the soft ground, and using it like a sprinter’s block to take off after them.

###

Coming around the pagoda, I’m confronted with a tree line that’s presence seems off to me in a way I’m not going to bother analyzing at the moment. The kid is more important. With that thought I plunged into the Yokai forest for the second time, and for the first time without a guide.

I noted earlier that the Yokai forest, for all that they’ve tried, isn’t nearly as eldritch or confusing as Faerie is. Trying to find my way through the trees though, it becomes abundantly clear that Faerie is a really high bar, and ‘not as confusing as Faerie’ still leaves plenty of room to really screw with somebody.

The sun is well in the sky, the day having solidly moved to mid morning. There’s no mist, or deep shadows, only sun dappled ground and the soft sound of birds. Which doesn’t stop the forest from being profoundly unnerving anyway. How it manages that I have no idea, but my bet would be that it has something to do with how the manipulation of space in the forest messes with my bat granted sonar. Nothing really matches up with what my eyes are telling me. Distances change without warning, and moving in a direction doesn’t always mean you’ve actually moved in that direction.

I’m just glad it doesn't leave me carsick.

Still, I pursue the kidnapper through the trees, through a combination of tracking where the bird song isn’t, and following their scent trail. I still can’t track like the bloodhound, I took my sense of smell from, but any time the smell of panicked fox disappears I know that I’ve missed something, so I can double back and try again.

It works.

Mostly.

Enough.

At least it does until the trees abruptly stop. In front of me is a well lit clearing full of long grass, wild flowers, and the occasional large rock. It vaguely reminds me of the ‘clearing’ I found the Sidhe in, a thought that leads to me suppressing a shudder.

Focus on now, Ericka.

In the center of all of this is a very dead tree. The tree had been struck by lightning at some point, and since then all of its branches have been broken off. Now it’s a single straight skeletal finger pointing towards the sky, the grey color of truly old, dead wood.

Hanging from one of the branch stubs is what looks like a rough spun brown sack. The sack thrashes and screams, “Mommy! Mommy help! I want to go home!”

Hearing the little girl begging for her mother is honestly heart wrenching. Which is why I hold very still, and make no moves towards the obvious bait. Apparently the bag man... woman... monster thing... Yokai, has decided that they won’t be able to get away from me. Which is gratifying, I didn’t think that I’d managed to stay that close to them. So instead, they’re going to try and bait me into rushing into what’s definitely an ambush. Hell, for all I know Kunou isn’t even really in that sack. I don’t recognize the thing that ran off with her, I have no idea what powers it might have.

I’ll just have to trust my senses, and do what I can to screw with their plan.

I pull my glamor around me, and vanished from the world. I won’t be able to keep it up once I do something with the sack, but maybe my appearing out of nowhere will throw my opponent somehow. And really, I’m about to get into a fight, I’m particularly concerned about how much mana I’m burning to stay out of sight.

I make a beeline for the tree and the sack, trusting my glamor to cover up any incidental evidence of my presence. I do a lap of the dead tree, just to make sure that there isn't anything waiting for me on the other side, or a bear trap right under the sack or something.

There isn’t.

There isn’t anything to indicate that what I’m looking at is anything other than what it looked like, which honestly makes me even more nervous. There’s a trap here somewhere but I can’t see it.

Yet.

Still I run out of places to look, and my glamor isn’t going to last much longer.

I pull my athame and, while keeping an ear on my surroundings, cut the sack down. It hits the ground with a thump and squeak, and it only takes me another moment to pull the sack open to reveal a miserable looking tear stained face.

The little girl is nine or ten years old at the most, younger than I thought she was. She’s dressed in the shrine maiden get up that she’d been wearing in the picture of her I saw in Cao Cao’s warehouse. Giant blond fox ears had drooped out to either side of her head, and she stares up at me with huge golden tear filled eyes. The two together paint the perfect image of the world’s saddest fox kit.

Which is fair, she has just been kidnapped.

“You’re not mommy.” Brilliant deduction, tiny child.

“No, I’m not.” I reach down and lift her to her feet, then straighten as she stares up at me with suspicious eyes.

“Then who are you?” She demands, doing her best to not look like the scared child she is. It’s kinda cute.

“My name’s Ericka. I was in a meeting with your mother when all of this kicked off. I had the easiest time getting here so I came for you.” The girl doesn’t seem convinced, but I’m honestly not paying that much attention to her.

Behind me, one of the rocks I noticed earlier stands up and turns into the lanky, long limbed kidnapper I’ve been chasing. They somehow managed to make themselves indistinguishable from the rest of the stones littered around, a trick I’d love to have explained to me. They were probably hiding there intending to ambush me when I rushed to rescue Kunou.

Now though, they have to deal with both me, and their target free and mobile.

I refocus on the girl in front of me. Whatever else she is, the girl isn’t oblivious. She’s staring past me at her kidnapper monster, her eyes wide and body trembling.

“Hey, kid.” I softly try to get her attention, but she seems completely out of it, “Kunou.” I try again, and still get nothing. With a sigh, I step in between the girl and the Yokai that’s slowly and quietly stalking towards us, trying to make the motion look casual. Apparently they’re unaware that they’ve already been made, and I’d like to keep it that way. With my body blocking the kit’s view of the kidnapper, her eyes snapped up to... to the empty hood talking to her. My armor is all kinds of awesome, but it’s not really great for public relations. Normally I’d lower the hood, or at least the mask, to try and set her at ease, but right now though I have an enemy ‘sneaking’ up behind me. I’m not about to take my ‘helmet’ off. The kid is just going to have to deal, “Can you navigate the forest on your own?”

She nods, and whispers, “Yes.”

“Good. I’m going to keep that thing busy. When I’ve got it good and occupied, you go around the fight and make your way back to the palace. Once you get there, hide. Hide and don’t stop hiding for anybody but me, your mom, or Mia. You know who that is right?”

Mia seems to know the girl personally, so I’m hoping that it isn’t just from some kind of, watching from afar body guarding thing, and they’ve actually interacted.

Gratifyingly the girl nods, “Yes.” She keeps her voice low, which all things considered is probably a good idea.

I nod and move around the girl and step up to the tree. With a loud crack I kick the base of the tree, knocking it’s remaining long dead roots somewhat loose in the ground. Female trolls, tend to settle any arguments they might have, by ripping trees out of the ground and bludgeoning each other with them. I’m not twelve feet tall, thankfully, and so not really as strong as a troll, yet. I can manage a tree that’s been dead for a while though.

And really, I’ve been wanting to do something like this since I got my strength.

I dig my gauntleted fingers into the dry wood, and with a heave I pull the dead tree out of the loosened ground, holding it over my head. Turning I face the kidnapper Yokai, who’s shocked expression is visible even through their curtain of greasy hair. With a shout of effort I throw the tree at them.

The tree flys a good three or four yards, before hitting the ground and bouncing. Having largely been reduced to a straight pole the tree rolls quite well. The Yokai, despite seeming shocked at my action, takes it largely in stride. They unfolded their long legs, straighten their back, and launch themselves upward over my arboreal missile.

I was hoping that the tree would hit them, but I’m not really counting on it.

A quickly drawn back mental bow string launches the already airborne Yokai back into the tree line. I pause long enough to look back down at Kunou, “Wait until I find them and start the fight. Give it a count of ten for me to really get their attention then...?”

“I run back to the palace and hide and don’t come out for anybody but Mia or Mom.”

I notice she hadn’t said she’d come out for me, but I can’t really fault her for that, “Good enough.” There’s a crash as the tree I threw hits the tree line quite literally.

It’s a good enough starting bell for me.

I sprint in the direction I launched the Yokai in, and moments later fling myself over my arboreal projectile, and into the trees. I can see where the Yokai landed easily enough, several broken branches and a shallow furrow carved into the loam show that clearly.

Of the Yokai itself though, I can’t see a thing. Which isn’t to say it’s successfully hiding. Whatever else this particular monster is, it’s an ambush predator. So far every time it’s been forced into a confrontation, it’s tried to strike at me from hiding. The ambush in the clearing would have worked, if not for my own invisibility and paranoia. However, whatever the Yokai evolved to hunt, humans at a bet, must be significantly sight dominant. Because, while I can’t see her, my ears had absolutely no problem tracking her.

Also, body shape says, definitely female.

Also also, I really wish brain bleach was a thing.

So glad I don’t have a perfect memory... yet...

Note to self, add perfect memory to the list later.

The Yokai is darting from tree to tree staying in my blind spots, of which, thanks to my hood, I have many. I move carefully to the end of the Yokai’s landing scar, which coincidentally also moves me into her ambush zone.

As I reach the end of the line of churned earth, thick yellow nails slam into my hood with, judging from the amount of mana I gain, sufficient force to puncture a more conventional armor. The thin cloth of my hood doesn’t even twitch though, and I draw and swing Sclamhaire faster than I ever have before... and still managed to miss.

The Yokai hasn’t actually moved from behind it’s cover. It’s freakishly long arm reached around the tree without it having to move, and retracted just as quickly. I lung at the tree the kidnapper is hiding behind, swinging Sclamhaire horizontally with both hands. My wonderful sword slides through the aged wood with no resistance, and a snap of telekinesis sends the Yokai’s cover crashing down on her.

The Yokai flings herself sideways, only just dodging the falling tree.

Her dodge is an awkward thing of flailing over large limbs that slow her down enough that I manage to keep her in sight. I vault on top of the newly fallen log just in time to see her scrambling to her feet. Disturbingly long limbs fly every which way, before with great effort she manages to gain traction enough to start trying to run with a surprisingly effective quadrupedal gait. Her arms and legs are actually about the right lengths to pull it off.

Her attempt at running works better than I hoped, her loping four legged gait putting distance between us at a distressingly rapid pace. If she gets too far away from me in this forest, she’ll be gone, and I’ll never find her again. Between how magic twists space, and illusions twist the senses, I’m honestly surprised that I don’t get lost turning around.

So I have to catch her now.

I can jump just shy of two stories straight up with a running start, and a good bit further horizontally. Most of the time this isn’t useful for anything but bragging rights. Now though, this combined with previous parkour experience comes to my rescue.

I launch myself off the tree I’d just cut down to another that’s still standing. I hit the trunk with a thump, shaking leaves from the branches with the impact. One leg curls under me, absorbing most of the impact, and I quickly push off again towards another tree. Then another, and another. I ricochet between the trees like a demented heavily armed pinball, quickly catching up, then getting in front of the fleeing Yokai. As soon as I manage to get ahead of her, I drop from the tree, following my sword to the ground.

The Yokai screams, flinging a dark almost black blood everywhere. Sclamhaire shears through her right arm and takes the limb clean off. She collapses to the ground, her legs giving out from the pain, clutching her shoulder, howling, and trying to scramble away from me. Two strides eliminate the space that she puts between us, and a quick kick flips her onto her back. I plant an armored boot on her chest to keep her still as I raised Sclamhaire to cut down and finish it all, and hesitated.

The Yokai is beaten, maimed, and not really capable of threatening anybody for at least the next few minutes. Arguably she was never a threat to me at all. She doesn’t have anything I want to take that I know of, and unlike the guard earlier, leaving her alive won’t just be giving her the opportunity to sneak up behind me later.

Mia would probably appreciate somebody to interrogate anyway.

So instead of taking her head, I press the flat of my blade against her stump, and Sclamhaire sucks the heat out of the wound, freezing and cauterizing it. With a sigh I step off of her and grab an ankle. Everything taken care of, all that’s left is finding my way out of the forest, dragging my prisoner along behind me.

Just because I decided not to kill her, doesn’t mean I had to be nice to her.

###

It takes me almost an hour to find my way back out of the forest, and I only manage it then because some adorable little Japanese tree spirit with a head like a maraca leads me out. I’m pretty sure that my prisoner passed out a while ago, or at least she stopped moving on her own or swearing at me. I’ll take that and be glad.

The little spirit delivers me back to the garden I left from... and now that I have a moment to think about it, doesn’t the palace have walls around it? How the hell had I gotten back into the forest without going through them?

The only thing I can think of, is that the kidnappers thought that they’d have trouble getting through the wall with Kunou in tow. So had found, or created, some way around the walls and I just managed to slip through after them.

Something to figure out later.

Only moments after I got back into the palace garden, I’m confronted by a gold colored nine tailed fox the size of a double decker bus. I stop and wait for the giant fox to come to me, trying to look as non-threatening, and as unappetizing, as possible.

That fox is really big.

Not quite stalking, but definitely approaching with intent. Her head is lowered, and her ears are pinned, though she isn’t growling which is good. The stiff legged walk though, and the writhing tails are less so. I decide to cut the conversation short, and heave my prisoner forward, tossing her at Yasaka’s feet.

The giant fox looks down at the Yokai I’d just tossed her, her ears rotating from pinned, to flopped out to the side. Then pointed forward at me as she looks up again.

“What’s this?” Yasaka’s voice as a giant fox sounds exactly like it does when she’s a more human shaped woman. Which is honestly unnerving, hearing that gentle and extremely sultry voice coming from a set of jaws that could eat me in a single bite.

Two at most.

I sigh feeling exhausted from the day. It isn’t even noon yet! “That one had your kid in a sack and was making for the forest. Actually got into it, without going through the walls somehow...”

Yasaka looks down at the Yokai, and growls low in her throat. The sound is deep enough to make the air tremble slightly, before looking back at me, “Where is Kunou-chan?”

I sigh again, “I’m not sure. I couldn’t fight her,” I wave at the Yokai at Yasaka’s feet, “and keep the kit safe at the same time. At least not with any degree of confidence. I told her to wait for me to engage, count to ten and then make a break around the fight for the palace, and to hide once she got here. If you give me a flat, and solid, place to work I can find her for you pretty quick.”

Yasaka studies me carefully, and I helpfully pull down my face mask and hood again. Her scrutiny is a lot more thorough, and less angry, than it’d been in her throne room.

Something I chose to take as a good sign.

Eventually satisfied by whatever she’s found, the giant fox nods, “Do so. Then, afterwards, I may owe you an apology Rhostana-San. We can settle that and what else brought you here, then.”

I bow as properly as I can manage to the giant, and cautiously more friendly, fox, and get ready to start trying to find the little fox.

Again.


	27. Book 1 - Tea and Talent

Kitsune are the undisputed hide and seek champions of the world. Between illusions the equal of the Tuatha de Dennan, and a kind of shape shifting that lets them turn into literally anything, when a skilled and powerful kitsune wants to hide, they’re next to impossible to find. They can turn into other people, animals, plants, and inanimate objects, though whether it’s really shapeshifting or they just use their powerful illusions and fake it well enough that nobody can tell the difference, is a toss up.

Given this my claim to be able to find Kunou easily may have seemed to be overly optimistic. However the key to making this work is ‘skilled and powerful’. A nine or ten year old, two tailed fox is neither of these. So with a flat place to work, some bone chalk, and a quick and dirty version of my pressure Script, for the boost to my mana senses, she isn’t too hard to find.

We find the girl pretending to be an out of place rose bush. The heartfelt reunion between mother and daughter, is the sort of thing that should have been at the end of a Disney movie. It needs swelling music and a sunset or something. As it is though all it gets is me acting awkward, and trying to not intrude standing as far off to the side as I can without actually leaving.

After all of this, there’s no way I’m leaving before I get what I came here for.

After twenty or so minutes of the two fox girls crying all over each other, Yasaka manages to pull herself together. She straightens up and holds Kunou on one hip as she faces me, bowing as much as she can while holding a not so small child.

“You have my deepest thanks Rhostana-san, and my most heartfelt apologies for the way you were received.” The sultry quality of Yasaka’s voice has increased by a huge degree when she isn’t restraining herself from ripping the face off of whoever she’s talking to.

“Um... I’m not going to say it wasn’t a thing, because it sucked, and almost caused a lot of problems.” I let out a sigh, “That being said, I’m just as happy to talk to you about what I came here for and call it good.”

“Good.” Yasaka smiles, “That’s good. Kunou do you have something you want to say to Rhostana-san?”

The little girl is staring at me from her mother’s hold with wide eyes, though why... Right, this was the first time she’s seen me with my hood and mask down. Before now I was just an empty hood, on a set of armor, doing scary things.

“You’re really pretty.” I... what? Is this how all the beautiful women that I accused of being angels when I was little felt?

“Thanks?”

Yasaka groans, cradling her face in her free hand, “Would you like to join us for tea Rhostana-san? I feel that we could both use the relaxation given today’s events.”

And it isn’t even noon.

Kunou seems to realize what she’d just said, and turns bright red. She squirms out of her mother's arms, and bows parallel to the ground, “I mean, thank you very much for rescuing me Rhostana-san!”

“You know, tea sounds like a wonderful idea.”

###

Yasaka summons servants through some mechanism I can’t spot, and moments later I find myself ensconced in another picturesque open pagoda. This one is carved wood, and placed in the middle of a large pond or small lake. It’s accessed by a single carved wooden walkway painted, like the pagoda, a bright crimson red. The pond itself is covered in blooming lily pads that are only disturbed by the carp swimming beneath them, and the swans swimming through them.

Swans that have way too much mana to be just what they look like. I’m betting Swanmae, or Russian wereswans. They’re a pretty good means of subtle protection, though they haven’t always been. From what I remember, Swanmae were a kind of lesser fae, highly sought after by mortals and supernatural’s alike, both as brides, and because their feathers are basically cheat codes in alchemy. An art Swanmae aren’t unskilled in themselves. It’s where legends of Swanmae brides weaving cloth from their feathers come from.

They’re so sought after, in fact, that before too long there were maybe a handful of them anywhere that didn’t live their lives in iron collars. Then, somewhere, one of them found somebody who was willing to take the entire species’... ‘faeness’ for lack of a better term.

They lost their fae magic, life span, and ability to navigate Faerie. It sounds a terrible deal, except that they also lost the fae’s weakness to iron. Suddenly those iron collars didn’t do much to contain them any more. At that point they did what comes naturally to slaves, they staged an armed revolt. They still had their ability to shape shift, either as a negotiated exception, or as something not tied to their fae magic, and used their expertise with alchemy to give themselves physical superiority beyond even what most shapeshifters enjoyed. Given that Swanmae previously had barely been stronger than your average human, their sudden physical prowess must have come as a surprise to their captors.

Their revolt was a complete success, and ended with them removing their entire species from Russia, leaving a trail of broken bodies and hearts in their wake. After the dust settled the Yokai offered to take the Swanmae in.

So yeah, ‘innocent’ swans, very effective and very attractive low profile guards. Really, I wouldn’t mind having the opportunity to spar with one, or just get to know one better, or have one myself. They’re supposed to be some of the most beautiful creatures on earth...

Which is exactly the sort of thinking that led to them having to leave Russia in the first place.

Come to think of it, isn't there some sort of curse on them that encourages that sort of thinking? For a species that’s regularly mistaken for angels, both in appearance and temperament, they really got the short end of the stick.

I forcefully drag my gaze away from the peacefully floating swans, and back to my companions. Fortunately, my distraction had been quick enough that Kunou didn’t seem to notice it. Yasaka did though, and is giving me a sort of smug smirk, and smells pleased for some reason?

Well, whatever, I’ll take all the brownie points she’s willing to give me. Even if I don’t know why I’m getting them.

Kunou is still there because, quite fairly in my opinion, Yasaka is entirely unwilling to let her daughter out of her sight. For Kunou’s part, now that I’m not an empty hood in armor, and her mother seems at least nominally okay with me, has decided that I’m the coolest thing she’s ever seen.

“And then you were like, SHING! And your sword just went right through that tree!” She’d seen way more of my fight with her kidnapper than I really wanted her to, “And! And! And then she tried to run, and you were like ‘Not on my watch’.” The little fox is standing on the tea table, slashing the air with her arms to demonstrate what I had done with Sclamhaire. When she speaks... as me, I guess, she lowers her voice trying to sound adult or something. Thank god I sound nothing like that. From her it sounds adorable though, “And then you jumped between the trees like, SWISH, SWOOSH, HAA!” With each noise she jumps from one side of the table to the other, the servants setting out the tea working around her antics with practiced ease, until her mother snatches her from the air and sits her daughter down next to her, “Can I hold your sword?”

““No!”” Yasaka and I speak in unison. We found out at the same time, in Yasaka’s throne room, what Sclamhaire does to people who aren’t me when they touch her. The idea of that happening to Kunou is... nauseating.

Her pout is devastating, and while it doesn’t have quite the same power over me that little Sarah’s had, I’m still not able to withstand it for long, “Later, if your mom is okay with it, and you promise not to touch her, I’ll let you take a look at Sclamhaire.”

Kunou turns the full force of her pout on her mother, while Yasaka looks like she doesn't know whether to thank me, or curse me. After gazing into the sun of that pout for several moments, she sighs, “Maybe later. If you're good.” Kunou sits in perfect seiza, and manifests an actual halo over her head. Yasaka stares at her daughter, then visibly turns all of her attention back to me. Even so, she still has a hand subtly on Kunou’s back, “You mentioned a boon you were hoping for Rhostana-san? Perhaps we should start there.”

I womanfully keep a straight face through the whole thing, “Of course. Before we get to that though there’s a question I need to ask, just to make sure that my request is possible at all.” Yasaka nods, regally accepting the question, “You do plan on executing everybody involved with the... Coup. Yes?”

Instantly any goodwill I managed to gather with Yasaka vanishes. She sneers at me, hostility in every line of her body, “I suppose that you wish to do the deed?”

“I...” I have no idea what just happened. Honestly, my initial thought had been that I would perform the executions. At least for the Tengu, it would be the easiest, and most efficient way to get what I want. Yasaka’s expression makes me hesitate though, the thought of being an executioner makes me distinctly uncomfortable. I’m getting to the point where killing in battle, or killing things that I know would try to kill me or other innocent people, bothers me less and less. An execution is a different thing though, and that thought brings to mind Sarah. The way she looked at me when she thought I might kill a town's worth of people for the ritual to make my body work again. I never want to be the kind of person that would make Sarah look at me like that. Given the sort of life I set myself up for, that might be a lost cause, but I don’t have to jump into that abyss right now, “No. I don’t want to execute them. Just take advantage of the executions that will be happening anyway. And only the Tengu.”

Yasaka blinks, clearly not getting what she expected from me, “But... how will you ignite their soul without...” She waves a hand at my weapons, “And why only Tengu?”

“I... wouldn’t? That's not what I do.” Bloody hell, is all the difficulty I’ve had with her been based on a case of mistaken identity? What is this, a goddamn Shakespeare comedy?

“But...” Yasaka shakes her head, “I fear I must apologize once more Rhostana-san. I have jumped to conclusions again. I think I should ask some questions of my own, and you might need some answers as well, or else this will just keep happening.”

I nod, eager to do whatever I have to to stop accidentally pissing off the god fox, “Fair enough. First off, what the hell is a Murder Witch? ‘Cause as awesome as it would be to have earned my own title, even if I’d rather a different one, I don’t think I’ve done enough to earn any sort of appellation. Especially not that one.”

Yasaka sighs, and rubs her face with a hand, “She doesn’t even know what they are. Kunou-chan?” Kunou has, for the entire conversation, been sitting very properly next to her mother, trying as hard as she can to be ‘good’. To me, she has the air of a child hoping that the adults will forget about her if she doesn’t attract any attention. Probably trying to avoid what’s about to happen, “Why don’t you go play on the lawn for a little while. Take a few guards and stay where I can see you.”

“But moooom!” The girl wines.

Yasaka raises an eyebrow, “This is your idea of being good?”

Kunou sighs in defeat, and heads down the walkway towards the lawn that borders one part of the lake. As she does, one of the swans breaks away from the rest, and paddles over to shore. Upon reaching the shallows, the swan turns into a beautiful blond woman wearing light armor.

Yeah, really want one of...

I shake my head, and drag my focus back to Yasaka. Who’s smelling pleased again. I ignore that for the moment, and turn back to the discussion at hand, “So again, what’s a murder witch?”

“A murder witch,” Yasaka starts, and any positive emotion flees her scent. Her eyes focus on the tea that has been served at some point while I’d been distracted, probably by the swans, “is a practitioner that grows their power through... well murder. They carry a cursed knife that ignites the soul, burning it away, and allowing the witch to absorb the power released. It is an... agonizing way to be destroyed.” The fox has an excellent poker face, but her tightening grip on her tea cup, and her gritted teeth indicate a personal kind of pain, “Their artificially swollen power also tends to warp them in body and mind. Not too differently from how a stray devil will mutate without their king to keep their suddenly increased power under control.”

“Oh...” There’s a certain cosmetic similarity between these historical murder witches, and what I do. I figure that Pua and Vivain didn’t mention it because they know what I’m actually doing, and with that knowledge we are actually pretty different, “That’s why you were surprised when I pulled down my hood. I still look human, and a murder witch shouldn’t.”

“Precisely. The fact you are still attractive confused me rather badly.” Yasaka admits.

...This conversation is getting too dark, and that’s too good of a straight line to let go, “You think I’m attractive?” I ask, letting a teasing smirk crawl across my lips.

Yasaka nods seriously, “Quite, and might I add, very different from your school photos.”

Well, that joke fell flat.

They have my school photos?

I guess it’s not that surprising, they did say they were researching me, and school yearbooks aren’t exactly hard to find.

“Well yeah... It wasn’t the first thing I did, but really, what girl wouldn’t improve their looks if they could?” I tell her trying to fight down a blush. I don’t know why my making myself specifically more attractive is embarrassing, but it isn’t something I like admitting to. A change of subject is in order, “Also, to put your mind at ease what you described isn’t really anything like what I do.”

“What is it you do then?” I really should have seen that question coming.

“Well... I’m not sure how much better it is, but what I do is I harness the energy released at the moment of death, to remove a bit of the soul that defines an inherent trait, and then graft it on to myself. So I don’t really gain power from what I do, only new tools.” I carefully don’t mention the soul of the would be rapist that I scrubbed clean. I’m not really sure what part of what the murder witches do she objects to. If it’s what they do to souls, my version of the devil’s soul flesh merger might be close enough to cause problems. Besides it isn’t something I’m going to keep doing, with luck I’ll never have to do that again.

Yasaka stares at me wide eyed, “What happens to the rest of the soul?”

“I don’t know, whatever normally happens to souls?” I shrug, “I certainly don’t do anything with it.”

“Who taught you this?”

“Ah... nobody. I figured it out myself.”

Yasaka chokes on her tea, “What?” she coughs, her expression edging towards disbelief.

“Yeah. I discovered World Script and started playing with it. I got experience doing odd jobs and eventually figured out how to do... this.” I gesture to myself, “Honestly I was very lucky to get this far, both in the help I found at various times, and just in surviving my experimentation. The first time I used the whole process my eyes exploded. Literally.”

Yasaka stares at me, silent for a long moment, “Why?” She finally demands.

“What?”

“Why take such risks? From what my agents could find about you, you have been driven for a very long time. What could possibly have set you on this path? What could have justified it?”

That’s a question that is more loaded than it looks. What could have justified what I’ve done, in my mind, would be a very telling answer. Fortunately I have an answer ready.

“When I was very young, I had a vision. A vision of what the future would be if everything continued without interference.”

So I begin, for only the third time, to tell somebody what the future held. Leaving out the parts where it was a TV show I remember from my past life.

I figure that if anybody deserves a heads up as to what’s coming, it’s the Yokai.

It’s happening in their back yard after all.

###

By the time I finish with my story, Yasaka is holding her head in her hands and groaning softly. I think I might have given her a headache, “And this is all going to happen in Kuoh.” She asks, and I nod, “I knew, even when I was negotiating with the Leviathan, that I would end up regretting the deal somehow.”

I shrug, “That is how deals with devils usually work out,” I comment, prompting Yasaka to glare at me. I just meet her gaze, utterly unrepentant. It occurs to me, after a few moments of thought, that if Yasaka hadn’t let Rias and Sona set up shop in Kuoh, the entire plot never would have happened. Either Issei would have died in that park to the fallen angel, with no devils on hand to resurrect him. Or he would have lived a normal life, never activating his Sacred Gear, probably spending much of that life in prison of sexual harassment.

A lot of events would no doubt have happened, but the plot of Highschool DxD as I knew it stemmed from this one choice. How much could I have changed? How much could I have prevented, if I’d just sent Yasaka an email or something a couple of years ago, and somehow convinced her to tell the devils to take a hike?

It hardly matters now, but it’s something that I should keep in mind. Who knows how much safer I might be able to make my next world if I just act early enough.

Yasaka sighs again, jerking me back to the present, and out of my musings. I look up at her, and quirk an eyebrow in question.

“I think I will need some time to consider what you’ve told me, and decide if and how to act on it. Assuming that what can be verified in your tale, is. No offense.” I wave her apology off. I certainly wouldn’t believe my story without proof. I’m amazed that Pua took me at my word. Though she likely had all sorts of tricky Kahuna methods to check things, and see if I was telling the truth, “Back to where we started, your request of a boon is to take advantage of the upcoming execution of the traitors?”

I nod, “Yes, you can tuck me into a corner out of the way while it’s happening. I just need a few hours to prepare the area and to be there while it happens.”

Yasaka nods slowly, “What do you hope to gain may I ask?”

“Talent. I’ve told you about the sorts of enemies I expect to be fighting, and I can barely beat a Tengu my own age. People that have been fighting for millennia?” I shake my head.

“With the cumulative talent of so many Tengu you will be formidable indeed.”

“Eventually.” I tack onto the end of Yasakas statement, “I’ll be formidable eventually. Hopefully this will make it sooner rather than later.”

“Very well. I must think on what I have learned, but I will grant your boon. You may stay here until the executions, and I will ensure that you have time to do what you need to in advance.”

###

It takes two days for the Yokai to round up everybody involved with the Coup. I’m not entirely certain how they go about it, but the one time I see Mia, she looks like she’s forgotten what sleep is. So I’m guessing she’s, if not leading the charge, heavily involved.

Yasaka and I speak a few more times. Short conversations that mostly consist of her asking questions, to clarify something that I told her during our first talk, and me trying to dredge up answers. Not sure how well I do, but she seems satisfied. She’s still not entirely comfortable around me, but she isn’t hostile and seems to be dealing with whatever her issues are. Still, she very clearly would like me to finish my business, and leave. Which I don’t really blame her for.

The person I see the most of in those two days is Kunou. The little fox has none of the issues with me that her mother does, and continues with the attitude she showed during tea. Which means she mostly follows me around whenever I leave the rooms I’ve been given, and peppers me with questions. Things get really interesting when she follows me into the dojo I’ve been given permission to use. She watches me practice for a little while, then goes scampering out of the building.

I don’t think much of it, until fifteen minutes later she reappears with a stick about the right proportional size for a two handed sword like Sclamhaire, and starts trying to follow along with me. Not wanting her to develop bad habits, I correct her when she makes a mistake, and somehow I end up spending a good portion of those two days, teaching Kunou the beginnings, of the basics, of European two handed swordsmanship.

Just like when I’d been forced to take care of the village kids, I find that I like teaching. Kunou especially is a great student. She’s eager, and excited, even when I don’t let her spar or do anything ‘cool’. Just watching me work, and seeing Sclamhaire is enough to keep her going. So I have her doing the same things I had done when I was physically too young to really use a sword, but insisted on learning anyway. She moves through stances, practices blocks, practices the six cuts, and runs footwork drills. Kunou goes at what I give her to practice with enthusiasm, if not grace or ability. It’s fun to watch her slowly start to get things right.

While Kunou is a joy to teach, what I have problems with are her guards. Swanmae, each and every one of them. They aren’t the prettiest women I’ve ever seen. They’re beautiful, no doubt, but no more so than any other supernatural. They are the most attractive though. Something about them draws attention, and inspires obsession and possessiveness. Which would be the curse I heard about. The effects of the curse never lessen, the sight of them hits me just as hard every time I see one. With exposure, and copious amounts of meditation though, ignoring the thoughts and urges inspired by the curse gets marginally easier.

At the end of those two days though, I’m summoned to what will soon be the execution grounds.

It’s nothing like what I expected.

Possibly showing my western bias, I had expected gallows, or a fancy chopping block in a dry sandy area surrounded by high walls. What I get is an open grassy field, bordered by cherry trees, and backed by another part of the lake, pond, thing that takes up a portion of the palace grounds. On the edge of the lake, a large wooden platform has been built. At regular intervals are square, flat red pillows, of the kind that traditionalists in Japan kneel on, instead of using chairs. In front of each cushion is a pad of white cloth three inches by twelve. In the middle of the grass field is another wooden platform, this one raised several feet into the air with Yasaka’s throne-like chair set in the middle of it.

The entire set up is beautiful in a way that seems inappropriate for executions, but that really isn’t my call. Which cushions will have Tengu placed on them are pointed out to me along with where I will be during the proceedings.

With that information I set to work.

Under each cushion that a Tengu would die on, I draw a Script circle to seize the energy released by their death, and use it to rip free their sword talent from their souls. I draw connective Script, subtly, to the edge of the platform and from there a Script fuse runs to the back corner of the second platform, where I’ll be seated. There I simply draw two small circles for me to place my hands in, so it can connect to my tattoos. All in all, it takes me almost five hours to finish it all, which surprises me as I’d lost myself in the repetition and mindlessness of the work.

There are a lot of circles to draw.

###

The executions are to begin at sundown.

After finishing my work I return to my rooms to shower and dress in the appropriate formal clothes loaned to me by Yasaka. Too many layers of cloth wrapped around me, held in place by a wide cloth obi wrapped around my stomach, that I end up needing help to tie. Unlike the rest of the viewers, I don’t put on the makeup, or do anything fancy with my hair, instead wearing it tied back in a simple ponytail that falls to the bottom of my shoulder blades.

Returning to the execution grounds, my walk stutters for a moment upon seeing the grounds. The setting sun paints the lake a very appropriate bloody red, and the wind that comes with the setting sun fills the air with cherry petals. Each cushion that I saw earlier has a traitor in a plain white kimono kneeling on it. On the white pad, laid in front of each of them, is a tanto knife without guard or hilt. Several pieces of rice paper are wrapped around the bare tang to provide a place to grip the knife. Standing next to each of the condemned is another person, dressed in black, holding a katana.

They aren’t just being killed, they’re being offered a chance at ritual suicide, so that the dishonor of their actions won’t be passed on to their families. If they succeed, whatever that means, their second, the person standing next to them with the sword, would take their heads off granting them a quick death. If they screw it up, they’re left to die of whatever wound they’d managed to inflict on themselves.

I shudder at the idea of what’s about to happen, but force myself forward. I take my place on my own cushion at the back corner of the observer’s platform, and wait. I’m the last person to take my seat on the platform, which is filled by people of high rank in the Yokai faction, so I’m largely hidden behind them all when the rest of the people attending are let onto the field. People made up of the families and friends of those about to die, and the guards to keep them all under control.

I note, somewhat pleased, that Kunou is not in attendance. Though I do see Mia moving through the crowd. She looks about as happy to be here as I am. After everybody has arrived and settled, Yasaka stands and delivers a speech that I don’t listen to.

As soon as she finishes speaking, the pair at the front and all the way to the right from my perspective begin to move. The second draws his sword, and one of the servants, also dressed in black, approaches with a gourd. The katana is rinsed in clean water poured from the gourd, the servant steps back as soon as she’s done. The second flicks the sword, flinging any water still clinging to it off.

While the second and the servant ritually clean the katana, the condemned man pulls open his kimono exposing his stomach and chest. Carefully he picks up the tanto by the rice paper, and places the point of the knife against his stomach. The second lowers his katana so that the edge rests against the back of the man’s neck, then pulls it back to a ready position.

The two of them ready, silence descends over the field. Even the wind stills, the world holding its breath.

I close my eyes.

I can’t watch this. I don’t know why this bothers me so much more than any of the people I’ve killed, and I’ve killed a few by now. For some reason though, it feels like I’m back in the alley way just after having fought and killed the would be rapists. My stomach clenches, my eyes squeeze shut, as much to keep tears in as to keep the sights out.

I just...

The silence is broken by a pained grunt, followed by a shaky exhalation of effort. A moment later the sound of steel cutting through bone and flesh, a sound I know quite well by now, followed by a thud.

...can’t watch. All I can do is lean forward and plant my hands on the Script I already prepared.

The feeling of something flowing through my tattoos and settling into my soul, the odd feeling of the new piece overlapping and melding with something already there, keeps me from totally checking out. Instead every time it happens, that new piece growing stronger and stronger, it jolts me back to being aware of what’s happening outside my own head.

Again and again come the sounds of suicide. Most succeed in their task, and the sounds of their efforts are again followed by the sound of steel passing through flesh and a thud. Others do not, and I’m left with the sound of them groaning in pain echoing in my ears. Again and again my tattoos activate, delivering to me what I came for.

I don’t count how many times my tattoos do their work.

I don’t want to know.


	28. Book 1 - Moving In

With the execution finished, and a few days to recover from the experience, almost everybody is ready for me to leave. Yasaka, as friendly as she has become, is obviously still not entirely comfortable with my presence. The majority of the yokai in the palace take their cues from their leader, and while they never do anything overt, I’m definitely watched very carefully. For my part reminders of the... the essentially mass sacrifice that I took part in are everywhere. Nightmares once again haunted my sleeping hours, but at least this time my soul is intact.

Kunou is the only bright point for those few days, and continuing to teach her is the best distraction I have. It’s a good thing that she knows so little of swordsmanship, because the nightmare gifted lack of sleep leaves me fuzzy enough that anything more complicated than the most basic of basics I’m teaching her are completely beyond me. So I again end up spending the majority of my time with the little fox, her relentless cheerfulness and enthusiasm doing wonders for my state of mind.

In fact, the only person who doesn’t want me to go when the time comes is Kunou. She tries everything to get me to stick around longer. Begging, pouting, and when I finally say my goodbyes, clinging to my leg and crying. It takes almost half an hour to get the girl to let go of me, and I have to admit that I’m not quite sure why. Sure I spent time with the girl, and taught her, but that doesn’t seem like enough to inspire this kind of attachment. It’s gratifying, and the girl is adorable, but I’m more than a little confused. She only calms down when I give her my email address, and promise to keep in touch.

None of this is to say that Yasaka is ungrateful, or driving me off. She just isn’t entirely comfortable around me, and I’m not entirely comfortable in her palace. Really she’s almost embarrassingly grateful, and decided at some point, without consulting me, that just letting me sit in on the executions, no matter what I gained from it, is an insufficient reward for the rescue of her daughter, and saving her rule.

So when I leave she sends me off with several additional gifts of gratitude. A not inconsiderable amount of money, which will be useful. A box of tea that I liked while here, which uncultured western barbarian that I am, I’m entirely incapable of properly appreciating. An antique tea set to drink it with, which I suspect is more important, and valuable than I’m told, or really capable of understanding. And finally a jokoto chokuto, or a straight sword made before 900 C.E..

The last one I try to refuse. Kunou though tells me flatly, leaning forward with her hands on her hips, that her protector is not allowed to refuse the gift of a weapon to protect her honor with. That would be an insult, and her protector would never be so uncouth, the actual word she uses, as to do such a thing. Yasaka is standing behind her trying not to laugh, but nods telling me that what the girl is saying is essentially accurate. So in the end I have to take the ancient sword as well. Fortunately Yasaka also assures me, quietly, that nobody expects me to do anything with it except hang it on a wall. As good a condition as the sword is in, it’s still an ancient antique.

After all that, Yasaka’s recommendation of a realtor in Kuoh is really not worth mentioning.

So weighed down by gifts and guilt, I board the famous Japanese monorail and leave for the small town where canon happens.

God damn it.

###

Kuoh is a smallish suburban town that feels rather idyllic on first blush. The streets are clean, the buildings modern and in good repair. Plenty of greenery and parks scattered about the town layout. The town actually has a layout too. The street layout, when looked at on a map and the relative positions of parks, residential and other zones all gives the impression of a town that had been conceived of as a whole, and planned all at once rather than growing organically. The train station is in the middle of the town, and close to several hotels and the rest of downtown.

I got myself a cheap room, and settle in to sleep off both the travel, and the lack of sleep from my nightmares. It works out fairly well, and I sleep through the afternoon of my arrival and the night, waking up at what I would normally think of as far too early in the morning, but find myself well rested.

So given the early hour, I decide to get started with what I need to do to stay in town. In most other towns, the first place I’d have gone would have been the recommended realtor, but in Kuoh there are other priorities.

Which is why I’m standing outside gates, of the walled grounds, of the prestigious Kuoh Academy. The school building is a huge four story edifice that looks like a British manor more than anything else. A large fountain stands in between the gate and the front door of the school, dominating the large courtyard that apparently serves as a sort of central meeting place for students. The side buildings stand like detached wings off to each side, arched windows and white stone with light blue trim give the buildings a stately air. Which is only enhanced by the lush greenery and trees that are found everywhere they won’t be in the way of something else. Knowing that there’s another entire main school building that’s completely abandoned except for the Occult Research Club, otherwise known as Rias’ peerage, hidden somewhere makes the entire place feel overdone.

Still this is where I have to be to find the people I need to talk to.

Just because school won’t start for several more hours, doesn’t mean that there aren’t students arriving already. What exactly the majority are doing I have no idea, and honestly don’t care. I’ve escaped high school twice now, and that I have to come back for any reason leaves me feeling a certain amount of resentment.

I dressed up for the occasion, so I’m wearing a rather nice pants suit. Combined with my sunglasses, and the hairstyle I wear to keep my ears hidden, I looked a little like a government agent of some sort. Which is unfortunate, but acceptable, as it makes me look like I’m here with a purpose. Sclamhaire’s carrying case across my back interferes with the image slightly, but the over stretched ache from leaving my armor in the hotel room is bad enough. Leaving Sclamhaire and my athame, which is hidden under my jacket, behind would be more than I can bear. So with a fortifying breath, I head into the school.

With students around I keep a discreet eye out for anybody of importance that I might want to be able to identify later, and quickly enough I find a pair. Off to one side, walking together, are two... girls... standing together watching me with more than idle curiosity. Seeing as how I’m being examined, I have no qualms about examining them back. The two are the sort of impossibly beautiful that I’ve come to expect from supernatural women. Rias Gremory has hair, a shade of vibrant red that doesn’t occur in the human genome, while Akeno Himajima’s eyes are a shade of violet with the same problem. Their uniforms have to have been designed, deliberately, to show off the female form the way it does, especially these two’s figures.

Really, how anybody thought these girls are human, never mind teenagers, I have no idea. They aren’t built like teenagers in the slightest, as apparently being a devil comes with the power to let watermelons defy gravity.

My back hurts just looking at them!

The both of them are working their personas as the ‘Two Great Ladies of Kuoh’ as hard as they can. Elegance and refinement in every motion, benevolent nobility looking down on and caring for all. Which is a hilarious impression to anybody who knows anything about them when not in public. A sexual sadist, and a rabid otaku.

Personally, I want nothing to do with either of them. For a lot of reasons really, I find Akeno’s sense of humor, her entire mein really, extremely off putting. Rias either is, or is about to be, desperate enough for powerful peerage members to help her get out of her upcoming nuptials, that she’ll start having a really hard time taking ‘no’ for an answer. I figure there has to be a reason why she waited until she could present Issei’s devilish reincarnation to him as a fait accompli, even though she has nearly the perfect offer, that there’s literally no chance of him refusing.

Which neatly leads to the third reason to avoid the Gremory King and her Queen: Hyoudou Issei. Getting too involved with the canon cast basically guarantees having a certain amount of close contact with the boy. Something to be avoided at... nearly all costs.

When I first realized where I’m, one of my major worries was that in this universe the harem protagonist effect would be more than just power fantasies and lazy writing. That it would draw women to him, and force a romantic attraction, no matter how repulsive the boy is otherwise.

I’ve learned a great deal more about magic, and the supernatural world, since then, and now I’m even more scared of the possibility, since I’ve learned how easily it could be true. Hell, I’ve already experienced a version of what I’m concerned about, when the Sidhe tried to elf strike me. I’m concerned enough about it that if he wasn’t somewhat necessary for the survival of the planet after I left, I’d be more than a little tempted to hunt Issei down now and kill him, just to be safe.

As it is though I’ll just have to avoid him as much as I possibly can. Which won’t be entirely, given how much I’ll have to be involved in canon, but it will have to be enough.

Which was why I absolutely can not have Rias Gremory be my primary contact with the devil’s here. Fortunately I have other options.

The two teenage devils have started in my direction with pleasant and charming smiles on their faces. I have a moment to wonder if I could run away from them without it looking like that’s what I’m doing, but in the time it takes me to determine that I probably could if I merge with the crowds correctly, they’re already on me.

“Hello,” The red head says, her voice the perfect combination of sultry and innocent, but only the kind of innocent that serves as a temptation. Knowing that everything about the way she is currently behaving is an act for public consumption, turns something that I admit I would have otherwise found rather appealing, into something extremely off putting, “I’m Rias Gremory, and this is Akeno Himajima. You looked a little lost. If you could tell us what you’re looking for, maybe we could help?”

I think for a moment, and then decide to take her up on it. Following my first impulse of telling her to fuck off and fleeing into the hills would probably attract a lot of attention, “I’m looking for the student council room.”

This seems to take them both aback, after a moment though Rias rallies, “Of course, this way.” The girls lead me towards the main building, and for a few minutes there’s silence, and I’m hopeful that I managed to kill the conversation.

Unfortunately their curiosity overpowers the silence’s inertia, “Ano, I’m terribly sorry but I don’t seem to have gotten your name.” Akeno asks with exacting politeness.

There’s really no point in not telling them, they’ll find out soon enough if I get my way, “Ericka Rhostana.” Then after another moment’s hesitation, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Politeness costs me nothing, and just because I don’t want to deal with Rias or her peerage is no reason to leave a bad impression.

Rias beams at me and Akeno smiles gently, “Rhostana-san then.” The black haired girl nods to herself, “Might I ask what brings you to Kuoh academy? And in search of the student council no less?”

Now how to answer this in a way that isn’t lying, rude, or start the conversation I want to have with Sona now, “I have business with Sona Sitri.” There, that answer is true, reveals nothing, and is innocuous enough that it shouldn’t arouse any suspicions...

Why are they both staring at me?

###

The rest of the trip to the student council room is filled with idle conversation. The two girls after staring at me in surprise for a moment, quickly recover their composure and carry on as though nothing happened. The conversation is pleasant, and the both of them seem much more relaxed than they had been when we met.

Meanwhile I’m frantically trying to figure out how I’d given something away. Or what, for that matter. It isn’t like I’d lied at any point during the conversation, so what the hell happened?

I’m jerked out of my thoughts by the sound of Rias knocking on a set of double doors. A moment later one of the doors opens revealing a girl with spectacularly long black hair falling to her knees, green rimmed glasses framed violet and brown heterochromatic eyes. Her expression is one of blank formality.

The girl looked us over individually, lingering slightly longer on me, then turns back to the other two, “Gremory-san, Himajima-san.” She greets the other two with quick bows.

“Shinra-san.” Rias greets back cheerfully, “Would you let Shitori-san,” She gives me a significant look as she says the name, “know that she has a visitor looking for a Sitri?” The girl, Shinra, nods and turns away to speak to somebody inside the room.

Shitori? Who the hell is that? The name rings literally no bells for me.

Had I somehow changed things so much, in spite of how far I’ve kept myself from canon before this, that Sona has been replaced by some devil that I’ve never heard of?

Depending on the personality and attitude of this new devil there very well may be serious problems. Well the only thing I can do is...

“President-sama will see you now.” Shinra says opening the door, and gesturing me in.

Rias smiles at me, “It was a pleasure to meet you Rhostana-san. Perhaps we could speak again?”

I smile back at her, “Maybe.” Not if I can help it.

I step through the door, which is closed behind me, and take a moment to survey the room. It honestly reminds me more of pictures I’ve seen of the Oval Office, than any classroom I’ve ever been in. The floor is covered by rich carpeting that’s thick enough that I can feel my boots sink into it with every step. The middle of the room is occupied by a pair of couches set facing each other, a low table fit into the space between them. Past the corridor made by the couches is a large hardwood desk, the wall behind the desk, and the right wall are entirely made of glass. Huge picture windows that altere the light coming through them in a way that makes me think they’re tinted. Behind the rightmost couch, next to the windows, is a small table with an extremely nice chess set setup on it. On either side of the table are two comfortable looking wooden chairs. On the left side of the room, up against that wall, is a waist high table with a very high quality, and extensive, tea set.

Behind the desk sits a girl who actually looks like a teenage girl. Chin length black hair frames her face, and she wears glasses I’m pretty sure she doesn’t need.

I glance from her, to where Shinra is preparing tea, and back to the girl behind the desk, “Ah... Shitori...?”

“I am Sona Sitri.” The girl behind the desk tells me, “Shitori is the name I use on earth to avoid attracting too much attention. Rhostana-san?” That’s what’s going on. I used Sona’s real name, which told Rias and Akeno that I both knew about the supernatural in general, and about them being devil’s in particular. That’s also why they relaxed afterwards, they didn’t have to worry about pretending quite so hard.

I nod both to her and at my own revelation, then bow as correctly as I can manage, “Ericka Rhostana.”

“Very well Rhostana-san. You came looking for me, what brings you to Kuoh? And to me in particular.”

“Well... I was under the impression that this town is your territory.” I take off my sunglasses to try and appear more personable, tucking them into a pocket in my suit jacket. It isn’t like a devil would hold my beaten gold cat’s eyes against me. Hell, I like them. I just wish I could show them off more, “Well you and the Gremory heir’s. I’m hoping to move to Kuoh for the foreseeable future, good manners dictate that I introduce myself to the rulers of the supernatural side of things, and get permission before setting up in your backyard.”

The girl has a fantastic poker face as she doesn’t react in the slightest to anything I say, “Why not deal with the Gremory heir? Many find her personable and appealing,” Or maybe not so great a poker face, is that a bit of jealousy of your friend Rias there Sona? “and you had ample opportunity as she led you here.”

I sigh and hesitate for a moment, then shrug, “Honestly? A couple of reasons. One you have a reputation for being more level headed and logical than the Gremory heir’s more emotional approach. I’d rather deal with somebody who deals with logic. It’s not the most important thing for the current conversation, but whoever I talk to now is likely to remain my point of contact going forward.”

“And you would rather deal with me.” Sona nods slowly mulling over what I’ve said as her Queen, Shinra, deliveres an expertly prepared cup of tea to her king before taking up a position just behind Sona’s right shoulder. Sona takes a slow sip of the tea before speaking again, “And your other reasons? You mentioned several.”

“Well... I’m aware of her... Nuptial issues?” Sona narrows her eyes at me just slightly, “And frankly I want nothing to do with it. She strikes me as the sort to... look I just don’t want to be hassled constantly about joining her peerage. I have no interest in becoming a devil, and if I dealt with her I’d hear about it every time we met. I’ll still likely hear about it more than I want to.”

A series of complex expressions flickers across her face at a speed that should have made me wonder if I’d imagined them... but I see and recall each of them perfectly, even if I can’t interpret them all.

Odd...

Think about it later, Ericka.

Sona sighs and nods slightly, “I can understand that, I suppose, and Rias does tend to be... passionate.” Sure, let's go with that, “Very well. Do you play chess?”

From most people that would have been a non sequitur, but devils have an obsession with chess culturally. Sona has taken that love of chell even further. I think she asks literally everybody to play with her, so I’d sort of been expecting it.”

I glance at the chess table, then back to the girl behind the desk, and shrug smiling slightly, “I know the rules, but that’s about it. If you feel the need to beat the stuffing out of somebody across a board though, I’ll be happy enough to entertain you for as long as I can last.” I’ll admit I’m kind of hoping she’ll be uninterested in playing somebody who admitted to barely being able to play.

Moments later we’re seated at the chess table with a spectacular view of the school grounds, Sclamhaire’s carrying case resting in easy arm's reach leaning against the window, and a cup of tea of my own. Down below students are beginning to fill up the courtyard with larger and larger numbers. Off to one side of the courtyard three boys are jumping up and down and pointing at various girls as they arrive, shouting and crowing. Looking at them is like looking at the set up for a joke. One is slightly taller and athletic holding a camera, one is average in every sense, and the third is short, overweight and wearing glasses.

“Oh, glorious breasts everywhere!” For once I regret my improved hearing, “Look at the tatas on that one!” The average one shouts slapping at the shoulder of the short, round one, “Motohama! Motohama, over there, do the thing!”

The indicated boy turns to look where his friend is pointing, “Ohhh! Fantastic! Breasts 85, waist 59, hips 84 centimeters! Lucious! Spectacular!”

The average one makes grabbing motions with his hands, while the athletic one dives to the ground in front of the indicated girl. He lands on his back, the camera pointed up at her, the flash going off rapidly. The girl presses her skirt against her legs, shrieks and runs away.

I turn away from the window trying as hard as I can to ignore what’s going on outside.

Sona follows my gaze, and sighs, “Tsubaki,” her Queen turns from where she’s doing something at the desk and looks at her King, “The trio is... well doing what they usually do. Kindly go shut them down for me please?”

The Queen piece nods, bows, and quickly strides out the door.

That seems like a vast under reaction to me. If anybody had tried what those three are doing at my high school, they’d have been suspended at the very least. Once the PTA heard about things they’d likely end up expelled. If they act like this off of school grounds, I have no idea how they’ve avoided prison thus far.

The worst of it? I’m pretty sure that the average one screaming about breasts is Issei Hyudou, the lead character of Highschool DxD. He’s going to end up one of the most powerful people in this universe, and more than half of the named female characters will end up wanting in his pants. The more I see the more certain I am that there has to be some mind control effect, either latent in Issei, or attached to the Boosted Gear.

I can not get out of this place fast enough.

In the interest of getting what I want out of this meeting, I decide to keep my critiques of Sona’s management style to myself. If I catch them acting like that off school grounds though... Well I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won't be nothing.

“As the guest you may choose your color.” Sona offers me. After only a moment’s thought I spin the board so that I’ve taken black. The devil across from me nods once and makes her move.

I have absolutely no chance of winning this game, I’m not even going to make a good showing. Like I’d said, I know the rules and that’s it, and Sona is a chess prodigy. So since winning the game as presented is impossible I decide to give myself different victory conditions. I’m not going to take her king, or be able to stop her from taking mine. So instead my goal will be to drag the game out for as long as possible, and be as annoying and frustrating an opponent as I can while I did. I won’t make moves to win, but to try to prevent her from winning. I’ll lose eventually, possibly quickly, but I’m going to do that anyway.

If loss is guaranteed, take as much down with you as you can.

Hopefully not knowing what my goal is would throw her.

After the first few moves have been made, Sona starts speaking again, “So tell me what it is you’re asking for exactly.”

I make my move and sit back in my chair, “I’d like to purchase a property in the city, ward it myself, and be allowed to live my life. I’ll contribute of course, help defend the territory if necessary, offer my services if you have a use for them.”

“You’re services?” The devil asks while studying the board with a frown.

“I’m...” How do I describe my skill level with Script? I’ve only been working with it for six or seven years, so in the context of nearly immortal supernaturals I hesitate to call myself an ‘expert’ never mind a ‘master’. On the other hand I’ve done several things with Script that apparently nobody else has ever figured out according to Cait, Pua, and Vivain. If those three agree on something, I’m inclined to believe it. So what the hell am I? “Pretty damned good with World Script. I’ve made my living for quite a few years now helping the bottom rung of the supernatural power structure. The groups and people generally not considered to be worth a devil’s time, or too afraid to go to them.” I add the last to assure her that I won’t be poaching their contracts.

I make another move, getting a bishop out of what I think is a trap, but also not putting it anywhere useful to my victory. Just in her way. Sona frowns again, “What is ‘World Script’?” She asks absently while she frowns harder at the board.

I think my plan was working...

“It’s... well perhaps obviously, a form of written magic. Like Norse runes. Symbols arranged in the proper order to achieve the desired effect.”

“And what can it do?” the devil still hasn’t made her next move, which makes me smirk just a little bit.

“Anything.” That actually gets Sona to look up from the chessboard and give me a skeptical look, “It can!” I insist with a smile, “If you can figure out how. If you don’t believe me ask your sister.” She flinches slightly at the mention of her sister. Which I can’t really blame her for, the Leviathan is nuts, “Now if you want to know what I can do with it, that’s something different.” I get a mild glare, and she makes her move. I make mine far too quickly and continue, “I’m good with wards, traps, and environmental manipulations. I have some experience with mystic tattoos,” I tap my forehead and turn over one of my hands drawing attention to the Script tattoos at each location, “but if you’re interested in those, I recommend finding an expert. I know enough to know that it’s not something to take chances with.”

Sona nods along with my explanation and, as I finish, she sits back without moving a piece, studying me carefully, “So far I have no objections to you moving to Kuoh. Just one more question.” I tilt my head to the side curiously, “Why here? Why Kuoh.”

I smile, “Because you’re here!” Sona blinks at me, and a very faint dusting of pink drifts across her cheeks, “Well you and Rias.” The pink vanishes immediately, “With the little sisters of Lucifer and Leviathan here, nobody’s going to come here looking for trouble.” Wow, I can’t believe I said that with a straight face, “Not with your older siblings looking to land on anybody who does like a ton of brimstone bricks. My life has been... very exciting recently. I’d like to have some time of guaranteed calm for a while.”

“I see.” Sona toys with a pawn as she thinks. I glance out the window again just in time to see the three boys I noticed earlier running across the courtyard, chased by a gaggle of girls wearing full kendo gear, and brandishing shinai with intent. I have to admit that as much as watching a group of students chase down and beat some of their fellows seems wrong, given who it’s happening to I can’t help but feel a sort of visceral satisfaction. “Very well, I see no reason not to let you move here. So let me be the first to welcome you to Kuoh Rhostana-san.”

I get an actual smile, if a small one, with the welcome which makes it feel more genuine. I chose to believe it is genuine, rather than a deliberate act to make it seem so. I stand with a smile of my own, and knock my king over, “Class should start soon, and I think we both know that I was only delaying the inevitable.” I collect Sclamhaire, and after making sure that her case is secure on my back, I offer Sona a hand, “You’re a spectacular chess player Miss Sitri. Even I can tell that. I’ve never had so much fun getting my ass kicked before.” She takes my hand, shaking it with a delicate grip, smiling a little more at the compliment, “I look forward to working with you in the future.” I glance out the window again. The kendo girls are leaving after beating the trio of boys into the ground, and apparently leaving them for dead. The boys though seem to self resurrect as another girl walks past for them to ogle, “Is there a back way out of here?” I ask grimacing again, “I’d just like to avoid...” I wave a hand at the window.

Sona glances out the window and sighs, “Of course. This way please Rhostana-san.”

“Thank you Miss Sitri.” I say with a certain amount of audible relief. Following behind her I allow myself a small victorious smile.

Mission accomplished.

###

The next day I go looking for a place to settle in for the long haul.

The realtor is rather good, and Yasaka’s recommendation gets me some very preferred service. They take down what I’m looking for, and only minutes later have a list of properties to look at. Most of them are very nice, but the one I end up choosing is great.

Of course I probably would think that no matter what the property had been like, it is after all my first house. To date, while I’ve been away from home for a while, since my father threw me out at seventeen, I’ve been living on other people’s charity, or in transit. I lived at Cait’s book shop, in Pua’s guest room, and in various hotels and campsites, this house will be mine. Money I earned paying for it, and all the utilities, and the repairs, and groceries...

Why am I so excited about this again?

No, nothing’s getting me down about this. I loved the place from the moment the realtor let me inside. It has three bedrooms, two bathrooms and a ofuro, which I plan on abusing the hell out of. The kitchen is small, but that works for me. I'll be learning how to cook, so I don’t want anything too fancy. The living space is large enough to be comfortable, but not so big as to make me feel isolated. The property line is well defined, and the building doesn’t directly abut any other building, so warding it won’t be hard. Of course given the property costs in Japan, it doesn’t have a yard to speak of, but there are enough parks in Kuoh that I’m not really worried. There are plenty of places for me to practice.

It’s great and I’m pretty sure that the only reason I don’t get taken for a ride with how enthusiastic I am about the place is, again, Yasaka’s recommendation. The place comes with minimal furniture, and the utilities are already on, so it’s ready for me whenever I want. After I pay, and sign the paperwork, of course.

So back to the realtors office we go, and two hours later I’m the proud owner of my first house. Which seems so bizarrely quick to me that it suggests supernatural fuckery behind the scenes, but I’m not going to take the time to examine this particular gift horse too closely.

I have a new house to move into after all.

From the realtor’s it’s back to the hotel to collect my things and check out, then back to my new neighborhood via the subway. Which is nice, as it gives me time to think and plan what I need to do next.

I need to send emails to Sarah, Mom, Cait, Pua and Ku, Asia, and Kunou.

Sarah and Mom will get the most holistic view of what I’ve been doing. I think Sarah is treating my life like an adventure TV show, or an urban fantasy series. Living vicariously through me as she goes on being responsible. Possibly also a form of stress relief that doesn’t involve sleeping with random guys. Which she’ll no doubt do anyway, but I really don’t want to think about that.

I mean...

Come on!

Just...

Urgh.

Mom likes to hear about my fights, interestingly enough. I think she somehow connects how much ass I can kick with how safe I am. Not that the world actually works that way, but it works for her, so she gets stories of my victories.

Cait likes supernatural world gossip, and anything that could be called a ‘hunt’. So she’ll hear about finding the evidence, and a dramatic retelling of my chasing down Kunou’s kidnapper. With a bonus of any interesting tidbits I pick up either first hand, or from the little spirits.

Pua will get as much of a break down as I can give of what the Yokai forest’s wards and illusions are like, and assurance that once I get everything set up I’ll put a transit Script in my house so I can visit Hawaii regularly. I don’t think she trusts me to take care of myself, physically or mentally, without somebody looking over my shoulder.

With Ku I’ll talk about the fight in the warehouse and that spear, what it was like to fight a Tengu, and what’s changed now that I’ve acquired my talent. Also a promise to kick his ass next time I visit. I won't, but I hope that I can give him a better fight now.

Asia... adorable Asia, knows generally that my hands aren’t clean, but she also told me that she prays for me and doesn’t hold it against me. It’s sweet of her, so I take it in the spirit it’s intended. She’ll get pictures of all the places I’ve visited, and stories about foreign lands. She’ll also get my new address. I want her nowhere near Japan and Issei, but she needs somewhere to go when the church kicks her out. I’ll get her out of here fast enough that hopefully they’ll never meet. I plan on taking her to the Ke’Kua’Okolanii, I’ll need to talk to Pua about it, but I can’t think of anybody better to help Asia advance her healing skills. Or help her through the revelation that her god is dead.

Once Pua tells her about it.

I’ll catch a raft of shit for making Pua handle that particular revelation, but I’m sure as hell not going to do it. That’s the kind of thing best left to professionals.

Kunou I don’t really know well enough to know what she’ll want to hear about. So I’ll ask her some open ended questions that will allow her to talk about whatever she wants to. I’ll also ask her about how she’s doing with the training exercises I left for her. Maybe I can get her to send me video of her practices so I can keep helping her?

What else?

Wards. Those have to go up quick. I seem to recall that Rias is fond of sending her familiars to spy on anything that catches her interest. So something to keep them out, and to keep anybody from looking in. The usual set of physical defenses, just have to make sure to anchor them in something durable. The threats out here are way more high powered than I’m used to, paper tags aren’t going to cut it.

The subway arrives at my stop, and I haul myself and my bags out of the train, and towards my new house.

Squee!

I keep going over the details of what I’ll put around the house in this new environment as I approach my new place. If I can manage it, silver poured into carved stone would be best, but that would also take time. Paper tags will probably have to suffice as a stop gap.

Up my front steps with the keys to my front door.

Squee!

Maybe a ward specifically for Issei? I can have it electrocute him, and then launch him for distance. Down the street or over the roofs? Maybe...

Closing the door behind me I freeze. I’m not the only person here. The sound of somebody standing in my kitchen finally penetrates my preoccupation with wards to stop... this from happening.

The irony is not lost on me.

They’re just standing in the kitchen area, they sound a little less than a foot shorter than me, and strangely invisible to my mana senses. Which is just as annoying this time as it was when Mia’d done it.

I set down my bags carefully so as to not make any sound, and carefully draw my athame. Sclamhaire is a little too big for these close quarters. Not that I can’t swing her, she’ll go through the walls and furniture of this place without slowing down enough to matter. I’ve just gotten this house though, and I’m not prepared to destroy it unless I have to.

As quietly as I can I move to the kitchen, getting a better sense of who is in there as I do. There’s an odd crinkling sound, not paper, more like plastic. Also a regular rhythmic crunching sound.

What the hell?

I step carefully into the doorway of the kitchen and find who has broken into my house, “You know you should really get some food in this place. It’s entirely empty!” Mia tells me as though she belongs there, pulling another chip out of her bag of them.

“What... how? WHY!” I sputter.

Mia gives me that insufferable smirk she has, “Well you told Yasaka-sama that the future would be happening here. She thought it would be a good idea to keep an eye on things. So she sent me.”

“But... Why are you here? I just bought this place two hours ago! How did you know where to come?”

Her eye glints with mischief, “I’ma clever bird.”

God damnit Mia!


	29. Book 1 - Unexpected Guests

I stare at Mia for a long few moments before I can bring myself to speak again, “And I suppose you think you’ll be staying here.”

“Yup!” The damn bird chirps, “Not for free of course. Yasaka-sama has approved necessary expenditures, like for rent,” I glare at her, “Which could be paid in things like supplies instead of money.” I glare harder, “Like for wards!”

“Clever bird, huh?” I sigh.

“Yup!” Mia almost chirps again looking insufferably smug.

It would let me get real wards up quicker. And having somebody around to spar with would be handy. And it’s not like I object to her company.

“Fine. You can have one of the guest rooms. I’ll have a list of what I need for wards tomorrow.”

“Yes!” Mia does a little bounce and fist pump, before dashing off to claim a room.

“You’re paying for part of the groceries too!” I call after her. She doesn’t respond, whether that’s because she doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care, I can’t tell.

Knowing Mia though I’m betting on the latter.

After a moment of impotent glaring at the back of the bouncing bird, I sigh and head to my own room. For the moment I drop my bags and start digging through them. It only takes a few minutes to find what I’m after, and so I resign myself to spending most of my first night in my new house drawing paper warding tags.

###

It turns out to be a good thing I do. After checking them the next morning, I find that several of the tags are browned, as though exposed to a heat just short of the point where they would burn. Which means something tried to penetrate the wards, and nearly succeeded.

This sends both Mia and me into a frenzy of warding that lasts nearly a week. Some part of me thought that I’d have to convince Mia of the urgency of the problem. Instead, I don’t even have to speak. She sees the paper tag that had nearly failed, and my friend Mia the silly bird is replaced with Mia the spy. Really, for how much we got done, a week is gratifyingly fast.

Mia produces the stones, silver, and the crucible to melt the silver, with shocking speed and fortunate volume. We end up using almost a hundred of the manhole cover sized stones. Each stone produces an acute triangular panel of layered wards. These panels are arranged around the house forming two solid domes, just slightly offset. The idea is that in order to get through the wards, somebody would have to bring down at least four of the panels.

I also include a new idea, a circuit breaker. In theory, instead of continuing to try and stay active until the stone breaks, the stones will be able to tell when they’re approaching the point of critical failure. At that point they’ll shut down on their own until they’re no longer in danger. Hopefully by the time an enemy starts work on the fourth panel that they need to bring down, the first one they’d gone after would be coming back on line, forcing them to start over again.

Between that set up, and the mana gathering Scripts to give them an essentially infinite energy supply, I’m hopeful that even somebody like Kokabiel would be at least slowed down.

Once that’s done, I trap the fuck out of everything and Mia smothers the place with illusions. I also succumb to my paranoia, and put in several traps and wards specifically pointed at Issei.

With all of that, I’m satisfied that I’ll have both privacy and as much safety as can be expected. I’m ready to take a much deserved break, but Mia has other ideas. Once everything is done, Mia confronts me with a map of Kuoh and two feathers. One black, and one white.

This project doesn’t take too long fortunately, as I’ve already done it once before. So with only another day of work I recreate the Script I used to track Tengu in Kyoto. Only this time instead of the bird Yokai, the map tracks devils and angels, both fallen and not. Also, I altere it to just show where they are at the moment instead of recording their movements. Where Mia got an angel feather I have no idea, I do have the gut feeling that I don’t want to know though.

We can’t tell the devils apart, but we know where they all are. When the fallen show up we’ll be able to keep tabs on them as well.

###

After all that precision work hunched over tables, and almost not leaving the house at all, we’re both ready to do something more active. Especially if we can do it outside, and I’m more than ready to do what I’d come to Kuoh for. At least part of it.

Over the last few months I've gained a lot. Strength, regeneration, my voice, telekinesis, and a huge dose of talent. Ku helped me with the first, and taught me how to adjust to further changes. Which will be the first step in learning to use everything I’ve acquired. Before I can start merging everything I have into something resembling a cohesive whole, I have to know how I perform now.

Mia is more than happy to help me out.

We take a little time to find a good place to practice, but with the copious parks scattered about Kuoh it isn’t hard. We end up in a park at the edge of town, it’s an empty grass field surrounded on all sides by dense tree cover. There’s a short hike to get to the field through the trees. It’s almost like somebody designed the place on purpose to be the perfect place to practice strenuous physical activity, that you don’t want an audience for.

Imagine that.

Mia and I start our practice with wooden swords, going at each other fast and hard. The staccato clack of wood provides a rapid beat for us to fight to. After we finish our first spar we use live blades. She uses her twin short swords, and I use Sclamhaire. We really shouldn’t be doing this, sparing with live steel or whatever Sclamhaire is, it’s a spectacularly bad idea. I don’t have much of a choice though. Sclamhaire behaves so differently to any other sword that learning to fight purely with something else would make me develop all sorts of bad habits. We end our practice with an unarmed bout, and finally I actually win once in a while.

The Tengu unarmed style reminds me a lot of eagle style kung fu. Lots of spread finger clawing strikes and grips that go for muscle or soft tissue. The differences between the crow style and the human martial art are the Tengu style’s odd hopping foot work, and the fact that when she performs the claw strikes she actually has three inch talons on her fingers. Also I learn that most of the reasons that jumping maneuvers are usually really dumb in a fight vanish when one has actual wings.

All told we spend three and half hours cheerfully beating the crap out of each other. It’s a lot of fun, Mia’s still better than me with swords, but she isn’t the insurmountable mountain that Ku or Vivain are. I can sort of see how to beat her, I just can’t quite do it yet. It’s the same sort of feeling I got from practicing with the HEMA group back home. Which is a nice feeling, the feeling of progress being noticeably made.

“So how is it? What’s changed?” Mia asks me excitedly. I take a deep breath, and open my eyes to look over at her. I’d brought a pre-drawn pressure Script painted onto a piece of cloth to help with recovery, which I’m particularly glad for now.

I mull over Mia’s question, though trying to put into words what I’ve been meditating on, “It’s... not like I thought it would be. I thought that there would be a... like the world would slow down. Or I’d just instinctively know how to counter you or something.” I chew on my lip for a moment in thought, “It was more like I didn’t need the world to slow down. Suddenly I could keep up, nothing had to slow down for me.”

“And the instinct?” Mia asks scooting around to sit on the grass in front of me.

I cock my head to the side, “There was no sudden enlightenment.” I say with a grin, “But like I said, I could keep up. I could follow what was happening and while there was no burst of inspiration, I can remember what you did. Remarkably clearly. I already have some ideas for counters.” I rock my head to the other side, “I also think that I could perform some of your techniques with a little practice. I just...”

“You just?” Mia prompts.

“None of that went away when I put the sword down. I expected to have to come up with some sort of workaround to get a lesser benefit in unarmed combat. Like having to think of my hands as swords or something. I didn’t though, I’m a little...”

I trail off as Mia, the kind and generous friend that she is, falls over backwards clutching her sides and laughing her chortling, croaking laugh.

Stupid crow laugh.

I just sit and stare the heaviest and most judgemental stare I can at the little Tengu. It doesn’t help. It does the opposite of help actually, as she seems to almost recover several times before looking at me, and dissolving back into helpless giggles.

Finally she pulls herself together, though continuing to chortle under her breath, and wipes a tear from her eye, “Oh god. Think of your hands like swords, that’s great.”

“Are you going to be helpful now, or do you want to laugh some more? I could leave you here overnight to get it out of your system if you wanted?” I offer continuing to glare.

“No no. I’m good...” She snerked once, but manages to keep her composure. If only just, “Sorry, we don’t have some mystical connection to swords, Ericka. Our ‘talent’ isn’t even mystical. We’re just physically gifted in a way that makes us stupidly talented with any form of physical combat.”

I stare at her, “Then why...?” I gesture helplessly.

“The swords?” I nod, and she shrugs, “Cultural obsession. We have some ascetic nutcases in the mountains that only use Khakkhara.” She paused at my look of incomprehension, “Those ringed monk staff things. But they’re just as good with those as the rest of us are with our swords. Also swords are really cool.”

I sit stunned, trying to wrap my mind around what this revelation means exactly. I keep stalling out though. I don’t really snap out of it until my mana network begins to ache. I quickly close myself off from the compressed mana, and get off the Script. I start packing things up with Mia’s help, who is blessedly quiet as I work through things.

I really need to start doing more research into what exactly the traits I’m stealing actually are. This is just like the incident with the troll’s strength. Only instead of shooting up into a nine foot tall over inflated caricature of myself, my narrow combat boost turned out to be much more holistic than planned.

Mia starts cheerfully chattering about things again as I grow a smile on our way home. This isn’t the sort of mistake I can keep making.

Just this once though? I’m not going to complain.

###

Most of my focus for the next year or so will be on getting a combat style out of all the tricks I’ve picked up, and one that will be adaptable enough to easily accept the new tricks I inevitably get. There are other things to work on though.

To practice my telekinesis I continue trying to learn to juggle with no hands. When I get tired of that I find a tennis ball to telekinetically bounce repeatedly off a wall. About all I can do with TK is practice with it constantly. Occasionally I devote some thought to how to produce a sustained force, but I usually stop after only a short while to avoid both frustration and headaches.

I start getting a handle on my voice by the simple expedient of taking singing lessons. The first thing I need to do is get my voice under very precise control, and why struggle to figure that out myself when there are already people who know how, and would teach me? My singing instructors are very impressed with my voice and my ear. I think I drive more than one to drink with my insistence that I have no interest in performing though. I’m also having a lot of fun with the whole thing. Singing rapidly becomes something I enjoy a great deal. Enough so that I start seriously looking for an acceptable target with perfect pitch, or absolute perfect pitch if I can find it.

Mostly though I focus on Script.

Primarily I have two major Script projects. The first is the Script that will hopefully let me turn my eventual ‘goodbye’ into a ‘see you later’. The other though, is just as important, more so in some ways.

Finally, I’m ready to devote some real focus to how I’m going to survive the Dimensional Gap.

The first step of course, is getting a bit of Gap to experiment with.

How am I going to do that?

Excellent question, I’m not entirely certain.

Well, that’s not strictly true. My first thought is to build a very thorough containment vessel with Script. Then, very carefully, open a pin prick hole in the edge of the universe inside the containment. Hopefully the Gap stuff will just sort of... leak in. Safely contained, I could play with it at my leisure.

The problem of course is that I have no idea what sort of containment will work on Gap stuff. Stemming mostly from not having any idea what Gap stuff is exactly. Worse, as far as I’m aware nobody I have access to knows either.

So I’ll have to go with an old fall back, do the best I can, try it anyway, and hope. With a sigh I settle down at my desk to design the most over the top, over engineered, over paranoid basketball sized containment sphere I can.

###

Mia and I have been in Kuoh for three weeks now and life has settled into a rather enjoyable pattern. We spend our mornings working on combat. Mostly we just spar with each other, I work on making my TK as instinctive as any of my flesh and blood limbs, and Mia works on whatever challenge she’s set for herself.

Afternoons are spent by her doing spy things, and me working on Script, unless I have voice lessons that day. I take breaks to play with TK when I can’t stand to stare at my desk any more, but mostly my afternoons were all Script. Unfortunately, neither one of my projects has made any real progress even after I’d finish my containment sphere. For some reason the Gap stuff won’t leak through the hole I left for it. Apparently, whatever it is, it’s consistency isn’t something prone to free expansion. Which tells me plenty about what it isn’t. Sadly I learn nothing about what it is, and now I have to figure out a way to reach into the Gap, and pull some out. Which I again have no idea how to do.

Mia has apparently been having just as frustrating a time as I have been. I still have no idea what she’s getting up to, but the way she comes home everyday and spends several minutes screaming into her pillow tells me that it isn’t going well. So that morning on our way to the park we’ve been using for our physical training, we discuss doing something that has nothing to do with projects, training, or whatever the hell is that Mia does with her time.

“We could attend a tea ceremony.” Mia offers, “You’ve never done that before and it's quite relaxing.”

I grimace, “Where would we go to find somebody to run us through a tea ceremony? Unless you can do it?”

“No!” Mia laughs, “I like tea ceremony, but I’ve never had the patience to learn how to do it. I hear there’s a shrine maiden at the local Shinto temple that will do it though.”

That’s what I’m afraid of, “Isn’t the Shinto temple where we keep seeing that devil hanging out all the time on the map?”

“Well yeah but... you think that the shrine maiden is one of the devils?”

“You don’t know?” Honestly, that’s the most shocking thing I’ve heard in a good while.

“Well...” Mia trails off, staring ahead at our workout clearing.

Which for once isn’t empty.

In the middle of the clearing a blonde boy of high school age, wearing the Kuoh Academy boy’s uniform, practices with a sword. He’s good for his age. Clearly he’s been trained since he was fairly young, though interestingly, even though his sword is European in style, his swordsmanship is decidedly eastern in influence. Mostly evidenced by how he neither uses the back edge, nor the cross guard of his sword, basically ignoring their existence.

That and...

“Ericka? What are we looking at?” Mia asks slowly and stares wide eyed.

“A boy with a sword?” A burst of faster than human movement haS me amending my statement, “A devil with a sword.”

“But what is he doing with it?” Mia asks, almost sounding pained.

I shrug, “Dancing?

...The flourishes.

His practice is filled with sword twirls, extra flicks, and dramatic poses. When he actually fights he does more than decently, there’s just so much extra. Which is what I think offends Mia the most. And while that’s more than a little annoying to watch, the tragic under use of his sword is what has me wanting to tear my hair out.

It’s that feeling you get when you’re watching somebody play a game you’ve already beaten. That burning frustration when they won’t do the stupidly obvious thing right in front of them, Yeah, watching this guy feels a lot like that.

The two of us share another glance, then a shrug. Well, I shrug, Mia gives me a pained grimace, and we head into the clearing ourselves. There’s plenty of room, so we set up to one side and get started.

First are stretches. Something I don’t have to worry about any more, in the sense of hurting myself, they do help increase my flexibility, which is something I do have to worry about. Trolls aren’t the most limber of creatures. Then, a few warm up drills, and finally, after that, we get to the good stuff.

A solid hour, of full speed sword on sword. Well wooden sword on wooden sword. After a week of this I’m finally getting used to the new way my body moves and performs after my most recent upgrade. My body of technique has also grown by leaps and bounds as well. I almost can’t help myself. Everything I see Mia do with her sword sticks in my mind like a bad commercial jingle. At that point I find that I only have to practice them once or twice to have the new technique available to me, like I’ve been practicing for years.

We finish up our first round of sparring and I settle in for my ten minute break in my pressure script to get ready for the next hour. Really important to be in top form for that one, sharp metal will be going everywhere.

A cough has me opening my eyes and looking over at where the young devil that had been sword dancing earlier stands a polite distance away. As soon as he has our attention the blond teenager bows politely, “Excuse me. I am Yuuto Kiba of Kuoh Academy, I have never seen you here before, might I have your names?”

While Mia introduces us I study the young man in question. Sona’s peerage is entirely female, so he isn’t one of them. Out of Rias’ peerage there’s only one male I can recall, which would be the guy that more than half of the girls in the school wanted in the pants of. I can sort of see why he might have that problem. His overly polite method of speech, constant small smile, and direct eye contact, it would be easy to assume that he’s flirting. If I found him at all attractive anyway. Instead I think that’s just how he is, or he flirts unconsciously and nobody’s pointed it out to him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you both Rhostana-san, Mia-san. I could not help but notice that you were practicing with swords, and I wondered if you might be willing to accept an additional sparring partner.” he says with a gentle smile.

Yeah, if he were a cute girl talking to me like that, I’d be getting some mixed signals as well.

“I have no problem with it.” I say slowly, “Just... I don’t know if you noticed Yuuto-san, but we practice very different styles of swordsmanship.” Which is true. While Kiba seems to tend to a very showy kind of dueling style, Mia and I tend to be more brutal. I half sworded, we punch, we kick, we grapple, and on one memorable occasion Mia pecked me. I was pissed as hell, and she was very apologetic. She swore up and down it was a reflex, and I chose to believe her. It’s one hell of a reflex though.

On an unrelated note, it takes me about two days to completely regrow an eye.

Kiba looks like he doesn’t know whether to be offended or amused, “I don’t think I’ll have any problems.” His smile becomes slightly smirkish for just a moment.

Wow.

Is this confidence a teenager thing, a devil thing, or does he just not recognize what Mia is.

I glance at Mia and manage to keep my shock down to a cough. Why is Mia’s nose short? And why didn’t I notice that before now?

“Why don’t you go first, Ericka?” Mia glances my way out of the corner of her eye and smirks, “I’m still kind of tired from our last bout.” Liar.

“Fine.” I stand up shaking out my legs a bit, “Do you want to establish some rules? Just swords maybe?”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with Rhostana-san. I wouldn’t want you to feel that you’d done less than your best due to unfamiliar restrictions.” Kiba replies with a shrug, and a smile that I’m starting to feel is slightly condescending, “Are you ready?”

I sigh again. What am I getting into here? He’s a devil knight, looks fifteen, maybe sixteen years old. If I recall correctly this is the guy who wants to destroy the church’s Excaliburs. He wants to do that because... because... Because he’d been the one who the church experimented on, to make artificial holy sword wielders. So he started training early, though most of that period of his training would have been rather abusive. More geared towards producing the immediate physical results needed for the experiment, rather than a competent fighter. He and his friends were a proof of concept, not a finished product. Then he was trained by one of Lucifer’s peerage. Some famous samurai from history, though I can’t for the life of me remember who. Still the Lucifer peerage is supposed to be the most powerful group of fighters in the underworld. So I can assume the guy knows his stuff.

Though, I recall what I saw of Kiba’s practice, he evidently doesn’t know his stuff well enough to step out of his comfort zone, and teach a western style for a western sword. Or enough to keep his student from developing showy habits. Is that an artifact of the instructor, or something Kiba had picked up somewhere on his own?

Physically... I don’t know. He’s a devil knight, so chances are that he’s faster than me. Maybe stronger? Though strength and toughness matter a whole lot less in a spar. Endurance? In my armor I’m coming to understand that I can out last anybody. Out of it though? Once again I just don’t know.

So, can I do this?

Again, too many unknowns to be certain, or even suspect anything.

Which I suppose is reason enough to go for the spar right there.

I nod, “I’m ready.”

“At your leisure then.” I take him at his word, so when he whips his sword around and up into a fancy salute, I punch him in the face.

He staggers backwards and I go after him, allowing no time for him to recover. He swings at me frantically to keep me at a distance. Instead of backing up I step to the side and towards him, in the direction of his strike and swing back. The trick is called a single time counter, something I learned from Ku. Thanks to the angle, my swing not only stops his strike but with sharp steel and follow through, would have taken the top of his head right off. It’s something that I’ve never managed to do to Ku. He has done it to me plenty though.

Ends up pretty cool when I’m not on the receiving end of it.

Kiba freezes with the ‘edge’ of my wooden sword resting gently next to his head, just above his ear. I hold the position for a beat or two, then disengage and fall back.

“Again?” I keep my voice as even as I can. The last thing I want to do is set off his ego somehow. Something that both teenage boys and devils are known to have in excess.

Kiba blinks twice, then sets his face in his typical pleasant mask. Determination leaks around it though, “Again.”

We clash again, and this time he presses forwards. He swings hard and lunges forward into my attempt at a parry, which lets him lock our blades together at the cross guards, and tries to press me back with physical strength. I find to my surprise that I’m actually stronger than he is. Not by a huge amount, but enough that if I really wanted to I could win this clinch. Fighting strength to strength has never been my style though. Instead I twist, pushing Kiba’s sword away from me, and gently introducing the back edge of my practice sword to the side of his head, again.

Again we both pause, then disengage.

“Again.” He growls, his composure cracking.

We have several more bouts, each ending the same way. After ten minutes, and almost as many bouts, the smell of his frustration saturates the air, and I call a halt to things, citing that Mia and I need to finish our training. Kiba doesn’t seem very happy about that. He keeps it fairly well concealed though, behind his standard pleasant expression.

Mia and I move on with our standard workout program. I get an actual expression out of Kiba when I pull Sclamhaire out of her carrying case, his surprise at the clearly magical sword temporarily overcoming his control. Otherwise, in spite of his frustration, Kiba seems content to watch us work without comment or reaction.

By the time Mia and I start in on our barehanded routine, the smell of his frustration has completely faded, and slowly his expression turns thoughtful. He left before we finish the hour without comment, which is kind of rude. Mia and I merely shrug though, and head back to my house to clean up.

“Well that was odd.” Mia drawls as we make our way back into range of the bus system.

“Yup.” There isn’t much else to say really.

“Think he’ll learn anything from what you did to him?”

I shrug, “No way to know. Worst case...” I pause then sigh, “He tells his king about what happened and Rias starts stalking me.” I glare at her out of the corner of my eye, noticing that her nose is back, “Thanks for that.”

“No problem.” Mia chirps, cheerfully bouncing along next to me as we reach the bus stop.

A few minutes later we’re seated on the bus heading home when Mia turns to me, “You know, if you’re that stressed out about what happened, you should do something to relax.” Oh no, “You know what would do that?”

“I bet you’re about to tell me.”

“A tea ceremony!”

###

I’m drying my hair after getting out of the shower wondering if I can find something sufficiently shiny to distract Mia from this tea ceremony idea she has, when the doorbell rings. I frown wondering who that could be. The only person I really know in town is Mia, and she’s still using up my hot water in the bathroom. Sona or one of her peerage maybe, but my minimal read on them leads me to think they’d have called first.

So who the hell else can it be?

I turn that over in my head as I call that I’m coming, and quickly pull on some clothes. I take another moment to pull down the devil/angel map and stash it somewhere out of sight. Chances are that whoever is at my door is a devil, even if I can’t figure out why it would be, and I don’t particularly feel like letting them know that I can find them anywhere in the city.

Finally ready, I head barefoot to the door and pull it open. As soon as I see who’s on the other side my brain stalls.

A strange panicked voice in the back of my head gibbers at me to run while I still can. A much more resigned voice points out that at the point I’m face to face with them, it’s already far too late for that.

There are two of them, and they are, in fact, devils. Just not local ones, though on some level I really shouldn’t be surprised by their visit.

One is a tall man with bright red hair hanging down around his shoulders in an artfully messy look. He wears a long cloak that covers him below the neck completely, and comes with feathered shoulder pads that belonged on an MMO character.

The other is a much shorter woman, generously proportioned like most devils are. She wears an overly elaborate white dress with an impressive amount of lace, ribbons, ruffles and general poof. She has a ridiculous looking wand in one hand. It looks like a white rod with a very silly pink heart on the end of it suspended in a golden hoop.

Why is Lucifer on my doorstep?

“Magical Girl Murder-Chan!” The shorter one squeals and glomps me around my middle.

Why is the Leviathan hugging me?

Just...

What?


	30. Book 1 Interlude - What Were They Thinking?

Rias glanced at her queen as the doors to the student council room closed. Akeno looked back at her with an arched eyebrow, and a small smile, “Well that was interesting.”

The two started down the hallway back towards where they had been going before they spotted the fascinating stranger that had wandered onto the school grounds looking lost, “Wasn’t it though?” Rias made no attempt to hide her excitement from her oldest friend, “What could you get from her?”

“Well...” The Queen piece started slowly, “She’s human, that much is certain. Just... a very odd one.”

“Odd how?” Odd was good. Odd usually meant something unique which was always good to have in one’s peerage. Especially if it was something unique which could be improved by becoming a devil.

“I’m not sure.” Her friend was frowning now, thinking hard, “It’s not something I’ve seen before, or even like something I’ve heard of before. It... really I don’t even know where to start describing what I felt.”

“Well then,” Rias said with confidence, “We’ll have to take a look and see what we can figure out. I’ll send out my familiars tonight when they’ll be less likely to be noticed. I’m sure we can figure something out about her when she’s being less guarded.” Akeno nodded in agreement and the two girls got on with their school day.

###

Later that evening Rias sat behind her desk in the Occult Research Club room. Akeno stood behind the right shoulder of her King and both of them watched the magically projected view from the eyes of Rias’ familiar.

It had taken a few phone calls to find out where the mysterious Ericka Rhostana was staying. The two devils had been surprised to find that she had already secured a house and moved in. Somebody had to be pulling strings for the woman, though who was unclear.

It also didn’t matter at the moment as Rias’ little bat familiar winged his way to the address provided. The house was a small thing, single story, no yard, tucked close to, but not against its neighbors. Most of the house was dark, though there were a couple of windows lit. All in all, it looked entirely unremarkable.

“Well, let’s go in for a closer look. Head to one of the lit windows.” Rias ordered her familiar which obeyed with a cute little squeak.

“Wait...” Akeno said leaning forward and pointed at something of a lighter color than the surrounding house right over the window, “What’s that?”

“I don’t know,” Rias murmured leaning forward and squinting slightly, “It looks kind of like a...” Whatever the young devil was going to say was interrupted by a plethora of symbols, that neither of the devils recognized, on what turned out to be a paper tag coming to life with a blue glow. They had just enough time to register that image before the sound of a bug zapper going off filled the air. The view through the familiar spell went nuts as the little bat was flung away from the house and across the street.

The little animal struck a tree planted to liven up the street, and slid to the ground smoking with an adorable, “Uuuuuu.”

The two devils stared at the projected image that now showed nothing but the underside of the tree’s canopy, with the occasional twinkle of stars shining through the leaves.

“What was that.” Rias demanded.

“I... don’t know. It’s not any kind of tag I’m familiar with.” Akeno said slowly running over what she’d seen again and again in her mind, “Effective though.”

Rias slumped into her comfortable chair with a huff, “Very.” She glared at the image for a moment before sighing, “Well we’re clearly not learning anything more tonight.” She brightened up again after that, “On the other hand we know she’s skilled in some form of magic! That’s good! Maybe she would make a good Bishop? In any case Sona no doubt got a chess game out of her, I’ll ask her what she learned tomorrow and we’ll go from there.” Rias stood up and collected her coat as she and her Queen got ready to head home, “Let’s go collect my familiar, and then get some rest.”

Smoking slightly on the street still looking up at the sky the bat let out another sad, “Uuuuu.”

###

The ORC club room was furnished in a remarkably similar manner to the student council room, though it wasn’t as large. It had the large desk positioned so that the person sitting at it would have their back to a set of large picture windows. Unlike the student council room those were the only windows in the room. The carpet was still lush though, the couches were arranged the same, and the room boasted the same low table between them, and tea service to one side.

The small white haired rook, Koneko, sat on one couch, a plate of various sweets held in her lap. A plate she was rapidly emptying with a single minded focus, seeming to ignore everything else around her with a well practiced blank expression.

The other couch was occupied by the knight Yuuto Kiba. The young man sat on the edge of the couch leaning forward so he could reach the low table where he had homework spread across most of its surface.

Akeno stood at the tea service preparing a cup of tea for her king, the only member of the peerage absent at the moment. She hummed softly to herself as she worked enjoying the art that most people never realized her hobby could become. Tea was more than just hot leaf juice, thank you very much!

The door to the room slammed open as a frustrated Rias Gremory stomped into the room, slamming the door behind her. She stomped her way over to her desk and collapsed gracelessly into her chair with a huff, glaring at nothing.

Kiba watched her storm by with a look of caution on his face, wondering what could have frustrated his king to this extent.

Koneko seemingly didn’t even notice what had just happened. She continued to eat her sweets without so much as a twitch marring her perfectly blank expression. Her eyes did track Rias across the room though, and if one looked closely one could have spotted a spark of concern in them.

Akeno was the only one entirely unaffected by the redhead’s small temper tantrum. She simply poured the tea she had been preparing and brought the cup over to set down by Rias’ hand. Task complete she took her customary place behind her king’s right shoulder.

After a long enough silence to show that nobody else was going to start the conversation, Akeno took the plunge. “So how did your meeting with Sona go? Or did she manage to evade you again?” The queen piece asked with a teasing lilt to her voice.

This snapped Rias out of her funk and she huffed again taking a sip of the tea. It had taken more than a week for Rias to corner Sona and to get some answers out of her oldest friend. Rias didn’t think it was anything deliberate, at least not entirely. Sona certainly hadn’t done anything to make it easier though.

“No, she finally had time for a conversation.” Rias took another sip, “Not that she said much. For some reason she was remarkably reluctant to give away anything she learned from her game with Rhostana-san. Though I did manage to get two things out of her. First, Rhostana-san is more physically inclined than we had suspected. Apparently that case she was carrying has a sword in it. A powerful one from what Sona said.” Kiba sat up straighter, his interest piqued.

“Do we know anything else about it? Or what style she uses?” The knight asked with carefully suppressed excitement.

Rias shook her head, “No, Sona never saw it, and couldn’t make any sense out of what she felt. Apparently Shinra-san couldn't either.” She threw a look over her shoulder at her queen, “It sounded remarkably like what you said about her, Akeno. We’ll have to ask her when she joins up.”

Rias spoke confidently, and she was. Mostly. On one hand who wouldn’t want to become a devil? Long life, power, limitless growth! It was a great deal. On the other hand, so far Rias had acquired every member of her peerage by rescuing them from certain death or worse. It made for wonderful loyalty and the proper feeling of family in her growing peerage.

Rhostana-san didn’t seem like the kind of person who would need rescue any time soon.

Or ever.

That the woman was several years older than she was also made Rias slightly nervous. Akeno was the oldest member of her peerage and they were only a few months apart in age. An older member of the peerage might chafe against her leadership, and Rias wasn’t entirely sure how to handle that if it happened.

Still, she was a Gremory! The Gremory heir at that. She could handle anything that came her way. Kindness, support, and caring would bring Ericka into the fold.

Once she was recruited anyway.

“All right, here’s what we’re going to do. Kiba?” The knight perked up slightly at his king addressing him, “Apparently Rhostana-san has been using one of the parks at the edge of town that my brother set up for the practice of powerful abilities out of sight, to practice her swordsmanship with a friend. We’ll give them a few weeks to settle into a routine, then I want you to go practice in that park around the same time they do. Get a look at what she’s capable of, then offer to spar with her. You beating her will act as an advertisement for what she could have as a devil. Be nice about it,” Not that Rias had any worry that her knight would be anything else, “if she seems receptive at that point invite her back here to speak with me about gaining the same power you have. If that doesn’t work, we’ll use what you learn and try something else.”

Kiba nodded, settling back into the couch. A small smile on his face at the prospect of a new sparring partner, even if he doubted that the human woman would be much of a challenge.

Akeno frowned though, “Rias, you said that Sona revealed two things, the sword was one. What was the other?”

Rias frowned, “Ah. That. Well Sona recommended that I never back her into a corner. She said that Rhostana-san was the sort who, if confronted with a severe enough no-win situation, would take everything and everyone she could down with her and salt the earth. Just to spite the victor.”

Everyone took that in and became just a little more nervous about meeting Ericka Rhostana.

###

The peerage save one was once again gathered in the club room. This time though, Kiba was the one missing, which was expected. Today was the day that he would be sparring with Ericka Rhostana. Rias’ future bishop... or knight. She wasn’t quite sure yet. It would depend on which were greater, Ericka’s talents with her sword, or her skill with her strange magic.

Rias was leaning towards making her a bishop though. The wards that had gone up in the week after her first attempt to gather information on her future servant set a really high bar. Neither Rias nor Akeno had experienced any more luck trying to figure out what style of magic Ericka was using, and if Sona knew something she wasn’t saying. The slight blush on Sona’s face whenever the woman was brought up though was interesting, and something to be examined later.

Rias was jerked out of her musings when the door was slammed open revealing a disheveled, bruised, and slightly bloody Yuuto Kiba. She surged to her feet as Akeno rushed forwards to help the clearly well worked over knight to his usual seat.

“Kiba!” Rias’ voice was filled with concern and worry, “What happened?”

“I got my ass kicked.” Kiba didn’t quite snap at her, “Thoroughly.”

“But... how?” Rias asked, watching as Akeno opened up a first aid kit that they kept in the office and started to treat Kiba.

“Honestly, I’m not entirely sure.” Kiba slouched and sighed, “When they arrived they had a reaction to seeing me practice, they talked to each other for a few moments then got on with their own work out.” Here the knight paused, thinking, “It was an experience. I’ve never seen that sort of... I’m hesitant to call it swordsmanship, because the swords were only a part of it. They punched, kicked and grappled with each other almost as much as they tried to hit each other with their swords. Brutal is a good word for it though.

“After they finished, which took an hour of nonstop fighting by the way, I approached them, introduced myself and asked for a spar.” Here he hesitated looking slightly embarrassed, “Rhostana-san tried to talk me out of it, pointing out the differences between our styles. When I insisted it was unnecessary, she tried to encourage me to set rules on the spar to limit what she could do...” Rias raised an eyebrow to encourage him to keep going. Kiba sighed and continued, “I might have been slightly offended by the implication that I’d need a handicap. So I insisted that I could handle anything she could dish out.”

“And then she beat you.” Akeno finished for him, having completed what minimal treatment the first aid kit could provide and a devil would need, “Quite thoroughly it seems.” The queen piece pressed a hand to one of her cheeks, and tilted her head slightly, a faint blush dusting across them as she licked her lips, “Ara ara, I wonder if she would be willing to compare notes with me?”

Kiba leaned away from the girl, eyeing her with some reproach, “You are not helping.” Akeno just smiled at him with a sultry expression, and licked her lips again, causing the boy to shudder. He scooted a little ways down the couch away from her, “But you are essentially correct.”

“How close was the spar?” Rias sat forward worried, if the fight was close it might still serve her purposes.

“It wasn’t.” Kiba told her, “I never got more than a single move before she either had me in a kill position, or did something painful to make it easier to get me to where I had to concede.”

Rias sat back into her chair hard, “How?” She asked a little plaintively.

Kiba shrugged, “Like I said I have no idea. I know she’s already supernaturally strong, and fast. Not as fast as me, but close enough for her technique to easily make up the difference. She also hits... really hard. Harder than Koneko does, though not by much.” He glanced at the small girl apologetically. Koneko didn’t acknowledge them at all in favor of popping a piece of chocolate into her mouth.

“All right...” Rias tried to wrap her mind around the idea of a human beating a devil, even one as new as Kiba.

Actually...

She glanced at Akeno hopefully, who shook her head, “She’s human, that I’m certain of. It’s the only thing I’m certain of when it comes to her, but I am certain of it.”

“There’s more...” Kiba offered slowly. Rias just nodded for him to continue, “After she... after Rhostana-san beat me for ten minutes or so, she said that she needed to get back to her practice with her friend, Mia... something. Anyway, they then did another hour of nonstop fighting with live steel. I got to see that sword, it... it reminded me of the Excaliburs. If only slightly.” He uttered the name of swords with a sneer and a snarl. He calmed himself quickly though.

Rias frowned in concern, “It was a holy sword?”

“No. It certainly wasn't that. I’m not entirely sure what it was that made it seem similar to those swords. It was faint whatever it was.” He took a moment to think then described what the sword looked like.

Nobody in the room seemed to recognize it from his description, leading to Rias sighing again, “I’ll see if my brother recognizes it, or if the Gremory library has anything.” She’d have to ask him about the magic Ericka-san was using as well. She hadn’t been able to identify it at all over the last several weeks. Much to her frustration, “Keep going.”

Kiba shrugged, “They did another hour of unarmed fighting the same way as the previous two.” He hesitated for another moment, “They were... really good. I don’t know who trained Rhostana-san, but they did a very good job.”

Rias sighed, and slumped. Now how was she going to get Ericka-san to join her peerage? She needed more information, Sona though wasn’t being helpful. She glanced at Koneko and her knight, “Kiba... Am I right in saying that you’d rather not fight Ericka-san again?”

Kiba nodded with feeling, “Getting beaten like that once was enough.” Akeno made a soft disappointed sound that made the boy scoot further away from her.

“What about learning from her?” Rias asked.

“I... actually had that thought. I think that both I,” He looked at Koneko meaningfully, “and others could likely benefit from the experience.”

Rias nodded, “Good. Then that’s what we’ll do. Aside from this Mia person Erica-chan seems very isolated, so I’ll ask her to teach the two of you. If we give her companionship and friends she might be more willing to join those friends.” Rias nodded to herself again with more determination, “We’ll go now. Koneko, Kiba the two of you will come with me. Akeno you stay here, I don’t want her to feel too overwhelmed.”

Now if only she knew why she had a feeling of dread about visiting the Rhostana house right now?


	31. Book 1 - Sanity is Over Rated

Don’t panic Ericka, panicking never helps.

In spite of my attempts to talk myself down, keeping my head is hard. Lucifer is standing on my doorstep, and Leviathan is wrapped around my stomach squealing like a schoolgirl that just got her own pony.

Which is what helps in the end. They aren’t hostile, and if they managed to make it to the door without the wards going off they have no ill intent. And Leviathan seems to like me at least?

Lucifer coughs into his hand looking slightly amused, “Serafall, perhaps you should wait until we’re introduced at least before the hugging starts?”

“Muuu!” The short girl wrapped around my middle pouts, “Fiiine.” The powerful devil hops backwards and strikes a pose straight out of an anime. Not a good one either. She has one leg lifted and kicked out at the knee, her wand held over her head parallel to the ground, and her other hand held out in front of her in a peace sign, “I’m the marvelous, the miraculous, the magical, Levi-tan!”

This...

This is what going insane feels like, isn’t it?

With a smacking sound Lucifer’s palm meets his face and he heaves a sigh, “I am Sirzechs Lucifer, this is Serafall Leviathan. Miss Rhostana, I’m told that you’ll find our existence less than a surprise.” Leviathan drops her pose, and plants her fists on her hips, pouting aggressively up at her taller companion, “Might we come inside and talk? We both have a few things to discuss with you.”

Do I really have a choice?

I wave them in, still not trusting my voice. To make sure I don’t screw anything up, and give myself time to recover my composure, I head into the kitchen. Interestingly, what allowed me to pull myself together are the manners that I absorbed from Cait while living with her. Nobody is as polite as the Fae when they’re trying.

Important note, polite is in no way the same thing as nice.

I deliver a glass of water to both of the devils, and offer them a seat on the couch. I have to drag a chair in from the kitchen for a place for me to sit, the house being designed and furnished for no more than two, or three really friendly people.

I set my chair down opposite the couch and facing it, “So. What’s brought you here?”

Leviathan takes a sip from the water and gives a slight nod before taking an actual drink. Lucifer takes a drink from his own glass then leans forward placing his elbows on his knees, “Well the first question is, what brought you to Kuoh?”

I blink, I’m pretty sure I told Sona that. I guess I don’t mind answering it again though, “Well, mostly because your siblings are here.” Both of their gazes sharpen at that, though they don’t seem surprised, “Their presence has basically declared this entire town a no hostilities zone. Nobody’s going to attack or pick fights here because of the risk of you two dropping out of the sky on them.” Given what I know about what’s coming I have to try and keep a slight grimace at what I just said off my face, but from the slight frown that Leviathan acquires I haven’t quite succeeded, “I’m just trying to borrow some of that protection. It’s been pointed out to me recently that I may not have been as subtle as I thought I’d been. So finding a place to lay low for a year or two seems like the right move.”

All true, if almost criminally incomplete.

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t entirely believe that Rhostana-san?” Leviathan asks shrewdly.

I sigh and scrub my face with both of my hands before looking back at my two ‘guests’, “First call me Ericka please. I was born and raised in America, and the referring to people by their last names thing... just sounds weird to me.” And this conversation is stressful enough without hearing the sort of subtle aggressive insult that calling somebody by their last name is in American culture. “Second, as much as I do believe that most troublemakers would never dare to do anything so obviously suicidal as start something where your sisters live... By the same token there is going to be a certain category of crazy that will come here for exactly that reason. And those are going to be the really dangerous ones for all sorts of reasons.” I shrug, “They should be infrequent though and helping with them is more than worth the safety I’ll get the rest of the time.”

Lucifer studies me with an unnerving intensity for a moment before seeming to find what he’s after and sits back into the couch satisfied.

As soon as he indicates he’s satisfied Leviathan sits forward and pins me with an uncomfortably intense look. Apparently they’re taking turns.

After studying me for what has to be several of the longest moments of my life, Leviathan turns the dial up a tick higher, “What are your intentions for my So-tan!” She demands.

What?

“I... I don’t...” What?

“Which part confused you?” Leviathan asks with deceptive mildness.

“I understood all the words you used, but the order in which they appeared has me completely baffled.” I finally manage to get out. What the hell is going on here? I’m still confused by these two showing up at all, but the Leviathan’s line of questioning is just... what?

“It’s simple enough.” Leviathan continues in that dangerously mild tone, “What sort of relationship do you see yourself having with my So-tan going forward?”

“Umm...” Why does this feel like meeting a girl’s father for the first time? What the hell does she think is going on? And how did she arrive at that conclusion? “I’m hoping she’ll be my primary contact when dealing with the local devils?” I finally answer, not really sure what else the terrifying walking ice age sitting on my couch could possibly want from me.

Said human shaped ice age narrows her eyes at me for a moment, then sits back with a happy bounce. Her attitude changes back to the happy go lucky girl that had greeted me with a thorough hugging so fast I feel like I have whiplash.

As I more than half expected though, Lucifer sits forward again immediately, “Why not work with Rias?”

Oh god, just toss the land mine right under my feet why don’t you?

After staring at the man for a moment I decide to just answer, and hope he doesn’t erase me from existence, “Honestly, Sona has most of her peerage and doesn’t have the pressure to finish it that Rias does. I don’t want to be hassled constantly about being reincarnated as a devil. I’m not interested, I’ll never be interested. Constant asking will just leave everybody involved frustrated and pissed off.”

Lucifer frowns slightly, clearly that’s not the answer he’d been expecting, “It’s becoming a devil you object to?”

“Yup.”

“Why? If its religious concerns...?” I don’t interrupt him, but I start shaking my head causing him to trail off.

“It has nothing to do with religion. Really it’s not devil’s as a species I have an issue with either. Some individuals certainly, but that’s true of any species.” I tell them channeling every bit of etiquette I’ve absorbed from Cait to keep my words and tone polite no matter what I’m actually saying, “It’s not being a devil I have an issue with, it’s becoming one. I’m a little too attached to my free will for that.”

Both of them look at me a little shocked. Finally Leviathan speaks up, “There are no coercive elements included in the Evil Pieces.”

“You’re good. I can’t tell if you’re lying to me, been lied to, or actually don’t know.” Both of them look more than a little affronted. What my mouth said catches up with my brain, and I try to suppress a flinch, “Sorry. I should have said that better.” Or not at all, “But really, if nothing else, the threat of being labeled a stray devil is constantly hanging over the head of anybody with an Evil Piece in them. That’s coercive by itself.” Both of them look like they’d like to argue with me but are having trouble coming up with a way to do so, “In any case, it hardly matters. You’ll never convince me that there’s not a mind control element included in the Pieces. So I’ll never be reincarnated.”

“Even if the alternative is death?” Leviathan asks gently, somehow managing to eliminate any hint of threat that could have been attached to her words.

I snort, “Give me liberty, or give me death.” I quote back to them. They aren't my words, but summed up my feelings on the matter better than anything else I could have said.

Leviathan nods and settles back into the couch. Lucifer looks at me like he can’t quite believe that I’m real. After a few moments though he shakes himself, “Right, well since you have no intention of joining a peerage you might be able to help me with something else. I hear you have a business performing magical service to the bottom rung of the supernatural ladder. Is limiting your clientele to them deliberate? Or would you be open to other clients?”

I blink several times, that question can’t be leading where it sounds like. “Um... I’ve never been approached by any higher order supernatural. I have nothing against it, though if you’re implying you would have a job for me, I’m struggling to figure out what I can do that you can’t?”

Lucifer nods glancing around the room, “The wards here are your work?” I nod again, now completely lost, “It’s the same language that appears in our circles when we devil's use magic, isn't it?”

Seemingly just to pump the surreality of the situation up higher, Leviathan stands up from the couch and moves behind my chair humming a pleasant tune to herself. I turn to look at her but she just gestures to keep my attention on Lucifer. After a moment I turn forward again, only to feel her pull my hair back and start a truly intricate braid.

Why is the Leviathan braiding my hair?

At this point my brain just gives up and I decide to ignore the hallucinations, and hope they’d go away on their own. Just why? “Uh... yeah. I’m sure it’s called a lot of different things, I’ve always called it World Script though. Why?”

“I’d like to hire you for a job. Not your usual sort from what we’ve heard, but I hope within your capabilities.” Lucifer looks very serious as he sits forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together, “Sona told us that you know of the details surrounding my little Rias’ impending wedding.” I can’t do much more than nod, and that earns me a displeased noise from the woman playing with my hair, “Then you also know something about Riser Phenex?”

“Only enough to know that I’m happy I’ve never had the opportunity to learn more.” Leviathan continues to hum softly and work on her braiding, I think she’s humming some anime’s theme song. I seem to recall hearing it at one point while Mia was channel surfing.

The devil in front of me, not to be confused with the one playing with my hair, nods, “Probably accurate. I never approved of the match, but my parents never consulted me about it. In the normal course things I’d arrange an accident of some sort to solve the problem.” Just in case I needed to be reminded that this guy isn’t just a devil, but the Devil. He heaves a sigh, “But Rias insisted that she be allowed to handle it on her own.” And given that your little sister has you wrapped around her little finger, you can’t bring yourself to do it behind her back, “It’s going to come down to a rating game eventually the way things are going, if she loses... Well at that point I’ll step in regardless of what she wants. What I want to talk to you about is if she wins.”

My brain is short circuiting, I absolutely can not keep up with the discussion. Leviathan adjusting my head every so often so that she can continue to work on my hair only makes it harder to figure out what’s actually going on, “You’re concerned about... if Rias... Wins?”

Lucifer nods, “You haven’t met him as you said, so let me say that my read on Riser says that he has never really been told ‘no’ before and had it stick, and he’ll be a very poor loser. I wouldn’t put it past him to try something if he thought he could get away with it. Given that I can’t be here all the time,”

“Not for a lack of trying.” Leviathan mutters softly enough that I’m pretty sure that even I’m not supposed to be able to hear it. Oddly the way she says it sounded more longing than reproachful.

“It’s entirely possible that he could.” Lucifer continues having not heard his companion’s comment, “Oh, he couldn’t hide from me, and I’d make his suffering the stuff of legends, but that wouldn’t change what happened to Rias.”

“So if she wins you want me to play bodyguard?” Well that isn’t going to happen. By that time Issei would be one of them, and hanging around a king means hanging around with their peerage. Now how do I tell the scary devil ‘no’ without getting...

“No.” Or not. Lucifer shakes his head slowly, almost seeming to hesitate. After a moment though he keeps going, “If Riser Phenex shows up sniffing around my sister after she’s won free of him, I want you to kill him.”

Oh. He wanted me to murder Riser Phenex.

He wants to hire me, to assassinate somebody.

On one hand that’s... not something I’ve ever done before.

On the other hand, a Phenex, that would satisfy the ‘better regeneration’ bit on my List.

Satisfy it really, really well. They’ve honestly got some of the best regeneration I’ve ever heard of.

I can also charge for my services. This is Lucifer, what can’t he get for me? The underworld has to keep track of where the holy swords are, just in the interest of self preservation. If he doesn’t know where the missing Excalibur shard is off the top of his head, I bet it won’t be too hard for him to figure it out.

That is... A lot to gain.

And it’s not like Riser isn’t an acceptable target. They guy’s a womanizing misogynist, hates humans as creatures below him that are only useful for his own amusement. And his peerage... well he’s the reason in the show that I began to suspect that there’s a mind control component to the Evil pieces. The amount of abuse there is just... disgusting.

Given all of that, there’s really only one answer I can give, “No.”

Lucifer looks vaguely like somebody had just slapped him with a fish. It would be hilarious if I’m not sort of worried that I’m about to get smote. Leviathan giggling behind me gives me some hope of escaping the situation though.

After several moments the red headed devil seemed to re-collect himself, “Why not?”

Of all the things I expected, having the god damned Devil whine at me is not one of them, “Um...” All I can do for a moment is stare, before a sharp tug on a lock of hair that Leviathan is doing something with knocks me out of my fugue. A moment of blinking, and I regain as much equilibrium as I’ve ever had in this conversation and shrug, “I’m not an assassin.”

“But... Please?” And now Lucifer is pouting at me.

This is my life now.

“Look I’m not going to kill a guy just for showing up.” I rub my face and pinched the bridge of my nose, eyes closed as I try to think through the overwhelming confusion and thick fog of WTF that hangs over everything, “I’ll tell you what I am willing to do though. I’ll keep an eye out for him. If he shows up in town after this rating game I’ll confront him, and ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing. After that the engagement should be broken, so he’d have no business in Rias’ territory without permission, right?” Lucifer nods looking thoughtful. “If he’s trying to do something to Rias I’ll stop him, or kill him as necessary then. If I can stop him, or just need to kick him out, I’ll get a hold of you or whoever you want to come and collect him. But confronting him is the most I’m willing to give a blanket promise for... with a few conditions.”

Lucifer narrows his eyes at me, “What conditions?”

“Well... If you want me to guarantee that he can’t sneak past me, I’ll need a piece of him, ideally. Really any Phenex will do, but a piece of him would be best.” Lucifer nods along, seeming to agree with that stipulation, “I’ll also need a promise that if I do end up killing Riser, you’ll keep the rest of the Phenex off of me. I don’t care how it’s done, but I won’t survive the focused hostile attentions of one of the Seventy Two Pillars. I’m not willing to commit suicide over this, so if I can’t expect to survive the job I’m not going to do it.”

“Those seem like reasonable stipulations.” Lucifer sighs and slumped in relief.

“Excellent.” I clap my hands, earning myself a poke in the shoulder from Leviathan and a soft admonishment to stop moving, “Then we can talk price.”

Leviathan starts quietly snickering, pretty much in my ear, and Lucifer looks somewhat surprised. I wonder how long it’s been since somebody, not one of the Seventy Two, has had the gall to charge him for anything.

“All right... Fair compensation is reasonable. What do you want?” Lucifer sounds a little nervous.

“I want the location of the missing Excalibur shard.”

“What?” The word comes from both devils. Apparently, I’ve finally managed to do something that distracts Leviathan from her focus on being a hairstylist.

“The missing shard of Excalibur. The original was broken into seven pieces, the Church has five, one is in the hands of the Pendragon family, one is missing. Nobody seems to know what happened to it. But I bet that you guys keep very close track of where all the holy swords are at any given point in time. Just so you don’t trip over one by accident, if nothing else.”

Leviathan either finishes with my hair, or decides that she actually has to be part of the conversation again, and moves from behind me to retake a seat on my couch. I carefully run a hand over my hair to try and figure out what she’s done with it. The copious, and intricate, braids are too complicated for me to figure out what they look like with only my sense of touch. I can tell they’re either spectacular, or completely ridiculous, just from the number of them.

“Why would you want to know where the missing shard of Excalibur is?” Lucifer asks slowly.

“I’m tempted to say that it’s none of your business,” A very subtle crease appears between Leviathan’s eyebrows, Lucifer generates an actual frown though, “but I can understand why you might be nervous about a holy sword being around your siblings, it won't be. I need it to pay off a debt.”

“Both of them relaxed slightly, Lucifer though seemed to need additional confirmation, “So the shard won’t be kept here.”

I snort, “I don’t want the thing, they attract way too much attention. Unless it is already, it’ll probably never even be in Japan.”

“All right. I don’t know where it is right off the top of my head...” Lucifer trails off for a moment glancing at Leviathan, who shakes her head, before continuing, “But the Gremory library usually either has the information you’re looking for or a way to find it. I’ll send the information along with the Phenex bits as soon as I’ve got everything.” Left unsaid is that he’s Lucifer, and if I screw him after accepting payment my suffering would be legendary.

I just nod in agreement. At least the meeting should be over now. I need another shower, a soak, and to sleep for a week.

Lucifer sits back and Leviathan leans forward, apparently taking another turn.

Well goddamn!

Never mind!

Apparently this day is never going to end!

Leviathan bounces excitedly several times, before hopping over the low table in front of the couch and sitting on it, taking both of my hands in hers. She looks deep into my eyes, and I find myself unable to look away.

Umm....

“I, Serafall Leviathan, want you, Ericka Rhostana, to...” She takes a deep breath, and I begin to panic slightly, “guest star on my TV show!”

What.

No really, just what?

“I have a Magical Girl TV show that I and my peerage film down in Lilith,” She thrusts a flyer at me which has a picture of Leviathan taking up most of it, dressed as she is now, only the dress and wand are pink, and she’s got a pink hat with wings on it. Surrounding her are various other people dressed in appropriate costumes, probably the rest of her peerage and the extended cast of the show, “And having a real magical girl on the show for a few episodes would be great!” She squeals.

I glance up at Lucifer trying to project the question, ‘is she always like this?’ with my eyes. His nod doesn’t fill me with hope.

“I don’t think I’m really...” I start only to be cut off.

“Oh, sure you are! You’re one of those dark and edgy modern magical girls, but you totally are! We can even use that! Have you set up as a cynical older magical girl who starts out as an antagonist and becomes a friend and ally as you learn to hope again!” Leviathan clutches her hands together under her chin without letting go of mine, keeping my hands trapped between hers as she swoons.

I have no clue what’s going on any more, Lucifer is laughing at me, and Leviathan keeps waxing poetic about potential storylines.

The entire situation is completely ludicrous.

... Is it weird that I’m kind of tempted to go for it?

###

The meeting doesn’t last too much longer. I promise that I’ll think about taking a guest spot on Leviathan’s TV show, and take phone numbers from both of them. Lucifer’s so that I can call him to collect Riser should it be necessary, Leviathan’s so I can confirm when I want to do filming.

Her words.

Strangely, I don’t get my hackles up at her assuming my agreement, instead it just feels like more of her never ending cheerful optimism. I get another hug from her as they leave, fortunately Lucifer is content with a mutual acknowledging nod. I walk them to the door, and I’m more than ready for the day to be over.

“Rias-chan!”

Oh, what fresh hell is this?

Even in my own head, my voice sounds whiny.

Approaching the edge of my wards are the last three people I want to see. Rias Gremory, the voluptuous redhead that had been one half of my guide to the Student Council room, Yuuto Kiba the devil boy who’s ass I kicked earlier today, and who appears to have already mostly healed from the mild beating, and...

Okay, I only really object to two of them. The third, a white haired girl who looks maybe eleven, twelve years old at the most. Though if this is who I think it is she’s closer to fourteen, she should be starting as a freshman next year. She’s always been depicted as a very... reserved girl from what I can recall from the anime, but the sort of blank emotionlessness I’m seeing is something very different.

Upon seeing his sister, Lucifer abandons any sort of decorum and squeals like a little girl seeing a puppy. He darts down my front steps, and snatchs the younger redhead up in his arms, squeezing her tightly. He babbles something that I’m very glad I can’t hear continuously as he swings his sister back and forth twisting in place, and rubbing his cheek against her hair.

I glance sideways at where the Leviathan still stands and find her pouting, “Now I want my So-tan!” She whines, “I’m going to go get some So-tan time. Sirzechs I’ll catch up with you later. Bye Magical Girl Murder-chan!” With that she flounces off down the street.

I wait until she’s out of sight, then pull out my cell phone and send Sona a text that her sister is in town and headed her way. After a moment I add a polite request to not let Leviathan know that I’m the one who warned her.

Returning my attention to the drama happening on the sidewalk in front of my house, I find that nothing has really changed. Lucifer is still treating his sister like a plushy, Kiba is bowing and looking more than a little uncomfortable, which is fair, this is his ultimate boss after all. The white-haired girl simply watched the events happening in front of her with an indifference that she demonstrates by popping a hard candy into her mouth.

Then her eyes sweep in my direction. As soon as she has her eyes on me she freezes, her eyes locking on to me for a long moment before moving on.

“Brother!” Rias finally gets enough air around her brother's hug to get his attention through his stream of consciousness litany of joy at her presence.

“Yes Ri-chan?” He asked, pulling back enough to see her face, “Do you need something? Can I get it for you? Are you thirsty? Hungry? Hurt? Onii-chan,” Why doesn’t that translate? I know what it means but why don’t I hear it in english? “will take care of you!”

“I need you to put me down. I have a meeting with Er-Rhostana-ch-san!” That’s news to me. On the other hand I can’t really tell her to fuck off and come back later. Not with her extremely over protective, and apparently slightly insane, older brother right there, “What are you doing here big brother?” Rias’ voice turns suspicious, and slightly accusatory.

“Ah ha ha...” Lucifer lets go of his sister, and forces a very fake sounding laugh, “Oh, nothing for you to worry about!” I can smell him starting to sweat, “Just checking up on things, look at that I’ve got to goseeyoulaterRi-chan!” I briefly catch a glimpse of a circle under his feet, and then with a flash of light he vanishes.

That’s the fastest teleport I’ve ever seen.

I look back at the slightly flustered group of teens still standing on the sidewalk, and raise an eyebrow, “We have a meeting?” I drawl.

“Oh.” Rias says, pausing at my front steps. She has the good grace to blush faintly, “My apologies E-Rhostana-san. I suppose I should have called ahead. I do have things I wish to discuss with you. Might we come in?”

I close my eyes, and pinch the bridge of my nose, sighing, “Fine. Hopefully this won't take too long.”

I wave them in, and to the couch, where two of the rulers of hell had just been sitting. Once they’re all seated I just stare at them and wait to hear why they’ve come.

After a few moments of silence, Rias shifts in her seat drawing attention to herself before she begins to speak, “I am Rias Gremory if you’ll remember,” I nod to show that I do, “This is Yuuto Kiba, whom I believe you met earlier today,” Yes I did, though suddenly I’m doubting that meeting was actually the coincidence it’d looked like at the time, “and this is KitKonekoten.” She introduces the white haired girl last, and her name does something strange when Rias says it.

“I’m sorry Gremory-san, could you repeat that? I think I misheard you.”

Rias frowns prettily, “Of course, this is Koneko/kitten.” That time it’s easier to understand, and I nod that I followed that time. Koneko’s name is both a proper name, so doesn’t translate, and the word for kitten, which does. Something about that overlap disturbs me. The girl herself has an actual expression on her face, she has the tiniest of frowns and is looking around the room as though trying to find something.

The red headed devil pauses for a moment examining me. She starts to say something before closing her mouth, and I can actually see her change her mind about something on her face before continuing, “Rhostana-san, you know about the supernatural so I can skip the explanations that usually go with this, but I’d like to offer you a place in my peer...”

“No.” I cut her off. I really don’t want to have this conversation, and as frazzled and exhausted as I still am thanks to the last meeting, my temper is already beginning to fray.

Rias frowns, and Kiba actually looks pissed. Koneko is sniffing the air now, I’m not sure that she’s actually heard any part of the conversation so far.

“Rhostana-san, I assure you, you would have nothing to worry about. I would never abuse my servants and, in Gremory tradition treat, them as family.” Family you order around, has to do what you say or risk summary execution. Rias reaches into her bag and pulls out a very nice hard wood box and removes two chess pieces, a knight and a bishop, from it and sets them out.

I press my self backwards into my chair to get as far away from the little mind rape devices as I can.

“I can offer you a position as either a knight or a bish...”

“No!” My voice gains odd, faint dissonant harmonics. I don’t shout, but my voice grates on at least my ears and, from the slight flinches from the devils, it isn’t enjoyable for them either. Fortunately when I continue to speak the dissonance fades, “I have no desire to become a devil.” I keep my voice even, but it comes out hard. My fight or flight reflex, heavily weighted for fight, is running full throttle in the presence of the Evil Pieces, “I in fact have an active desire to not become a devil. If that’s all you’ve come for, you can put those away and leave.”

Rias looks like she’s about to say something, but Kiba speaks first, “How dare you speak to Rias-sama that way!” He jumps to his feet and I tense for action.

Rias is the greatest threat, but Kiba is the most immediate one. If I can get to him before he manifests a sword I can throw him into Rias stalling both of them. Mia should hear the commotion, and she can hold them off long enough for me to get to Sclamhaire from my room.

I’m never letting her out of arm’s reach again.

Koneko, seeming entirely unaware of the tension, locks her eyes on me. Without acknowledging the impending violence the little white haired girl stands, and calmly walks around the table. Everything stops as she, without pausing, climbs into my lap and curls up there.

All I can do is stare at her, as two large white furred ears pop out of her head and she begins to purr loudly. She wraps her arms around my ribs holding on hard, hiding her head in my chest.

She whimpers, barely audible, and I feel tears fall on the skin of my chest.

At this point I can’t do anything but wrap my arms around the crying, purring girl, and look up at the devils utterly baffled.


	32. Book 1 - Temper

Whatever had been about to happen has been completely stalled by the lump of purring tears in my lap. Kiba’s brain appears to have completely shut down, his mouth hanging open, and any sense of readiness absent from his body as he stares. Rias has frozen mid-word, a hand raised to stop Kiba from doing... whatever he had been about to do. Now she just stares at the tiny girl in my lap.

My arms have wrapped around the girl almost by reflex, and all I can do for several moments is stare. Finally, I drag my eyes up to the other two devils, “Does anybody have any explanation for this?” The girl in my lap whimpers at the sound of my voice, clinging to me harder, which prompts me to hold her tighter as well.

“I...” Rias swallows, then simply shakes her head. Kiba falls back into his seat with a thump.

I sigh, and begin to stroke the cat Yokai’s back, which leads to her loosening her grip a little, and snuggling into me a little harder, “Put the pieces away Rias.” Those things still make me uncomfortable, “and if you have another reason for being here tell me. Because I’m never going to become a devil and discussing it further is just a waste of time.”

The red headed devil sighs, and put away the knight and bishop pieces in the box they came out of. Putting the box away she gazes at me for a moment before speaking, “If you’re unwilling to join my peerage,” Just the sheer confusion in that statement shows that while Rias has given up for the moment, she doesn’t really understand my refusal, so we’ll likely be having this conversation again, “Would you be interested in a teaching position?”

I just stare at her, “I hardly have the education, or the qualifications, to teach at a high school. And frankly I’m way too happy to have escaped my own high school experience to ever willingly go back.”

“No, I’m hoping you’re willing to help Kiba-kun and Koneko/kitten-chan with their fighting. From what Kiba told me you’re more than qualified for that.” The eagerness that had been in Rias’ voice when she’d been trying to talk me into her peerage, but had faded as that conversation began to crash and burn, starts to come back. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

Well, Kiba, at least, needs the help.

Koneko, and I really need to find out what her name was before Rias decided to change it, because I am not calling her that, needs help as well. Though whether that help would be of the combat variety, or just help with whatever caused her current position, I don’t know yet.

Still... “I have nothing against the idea. What are you offering as payment?” I charged Lucifer after all, no way I’m not going to charge his little sister.

I find it more than a little amusing that both Rias and Lucifer have pretty much the same surprised expression.

“I...” Rias collects herself faster than her brother did though, “How much? Money is no object.”

Really Rias? You’re a devil, you should know better than to make statements like that. Luckily for her, “I don’t want money.” I tell her with a sigh.

It’s true, somehow money is something I’ve never had to worry about really. I’ve never had trouble acquiring it, even when I don’t need it.

Which in this case is a problem. Because...

“Then what do you want.”

“...I don’t know.”

All the devils except for the one in my lap stare at me. The one in my lap has stopped crying, and her purring has become softer, less determined. My thought is to ask for something to help me with a way to analyze traits without having to acquire them first. Which is trickier than it sounds, since often the first time I see a trait is likely to also be my only chance to grab it.

The problem? I just don’t know what that help would look like.

“You don’t...” Rias begins, and I interrupt her.

“No I don’t. I didn’t exactly expect this conversation or this opportunity. So I don’t have a prepared list of negotiation points.” I look down at the cat Yokai in my lap, “I don’t think I can exactly refuse either at this point.” I look back up at the other two and sigh, “So let’s just agree that you’ll owe me a favor of similar value, that won’t put you or yours at risk, to be cashed in when I know what I want. Which I’ll try to figure out as quickly as possible. In the meantime, when are we going to do this?”

The negotiation on when I’ll meet the two younger devils to help them goes pretty quickly. They have busy schedules in general, so I agree to meet with both of them at the same time on Saturdays. Once that’s settled Rias has the good sense, and manners, to realize that it’s time for her to leave.

The most difficult part is getting the little girl off my lap. Rias gently wakes her up and, with some effort, coaxes her to her feet. The thing that disturbs me is that for the entire procedure, I only hear Rias calling the girl ‘kitten’, never ‘Koneko’.

She sticks close to me on the way to my front door, clinging to my pants leg with one hand, which Rias doesn’t seem to appreciate, only letting go when I open the door to let them out. She gives me one last hug, and I pat her between her ears, and off they go.

I turn around to head back inside when Kiba of all people calls my attention back to the group, “Ericka sensei.” I stop in the doorway, and very reluctantly turn around to look at him. He shifts, looking slightly uncomfortable, but soldiers on, “I practice every day, is there something you would recommend I do during these practices? To prepare for the weekend?”

I rub the bridge of my nose, my eyes closed, “Yeah. Go through your practice set one move at a time. Think about every movement you make, and identify its purpose. If you're not attacking your enemy, defending yourself, or moving to do one of those, stop doing it.” I open my eyes and pin him with my stare, “If it’s not necessary, it has no place in a fight. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a very long day.” And it’s not over yet.

Back inside I find Mia in her serious mode going over everywhere a devil had even seen with a fine tooth comb.

“Where were you hiding?” I ask her mildly surprised. Even with her ability to disappear, she did a thorough enough job while the devils were here that I had half convinced myself that she’d ducked out to avoid them.

She glances up at me as I come in from seeing the devils out, and then goes back to work, “I was standing right behind Leviathan.” She waves a hand, drawing my attention to a knife she’s holding. The blade of which is covered with some oily substance the smell of which burns my nose.

“What the hell is that coated in?”

Mia looks back over her shoulder, and grins evilly, “A spiritual poison mixed with holy water. It might not have killed one of them, but it sure as hell would have slowed them down. I’ll make sure nobody left anything behind that they shouldn’t have. I don’t think they did, but no sense in taking chances. Are you going to check yourself out?”

I nod, trying to process that I actually had backup during that whole mess, “Yeah. I’ll run a quick analysis on myself, and I’m going to go out of town to visit an expert I know tomorrow.” I start down the hall to my workroom in a bit of daze to do just that. Also to find a mirror, what the hell had Leviathan done to my hair?

“Does this mean that I’ll finally get to see this weird teleportation method of yours?” Mia asks, sounding muffled. I glance back to find that she’s squeezed herself more than half under the couch.

I just shake my head, and leave to run a Script on myself so that I can finally go to bed.

At least Mia has been successfully distracted from the tea ceremony idea.

###

I head back to Hawaii the day after the devil invasion. Partially to get Pua to check me out, and partially because I realize, as the Script drops me in the room in Pua’s house especially set aside for teleportation arrivals, that at some point when I wasn’t paying attention the Ke’Kua’Okolani village had become home.

My first home was my parents house, that ended when my father threw me out. My second was Cait’s book shop, and even though that was home, and I’ll always love Cait for taking me in when I needed it, the book shop always felt temporary. The village though... Something about the taste of the humid air, and the sound of the house gecko chorus relaxes me in a way I haven’t felt anywhere else.

In the village I feel safe.

I let myself out of the receiving room, and I’m met by a very happy Thea. The french brunette woman, even after I’ve improved my own appearance, is still unfairly attractive. And way too nice for her own good. She gives me a beaming smile, and moves forward to give me a hug, only to pause and frown when I hold up a hand to stop her.

“Ericka?” She asks slightly concerned.

I grimace, “I am here for a visit, but before that I should probably be checked over by Pua. I had some visitors last night and they could have done any number of things that I may or may not have noticed them doing.”

She nods once then waves me after her, “I’ll put you in her workshop and call her, then you can tell us all about what visitors you had that make you so cautious.”

Twenty minutes later Pua is swearing in an impressive number of languages, as Ku and I look on, both amused and worried. She’s got the results of my checkup in one hand but doesn’t seem to really be thinking much about them, “The good news is that they didn’t do anything to you. Though the signs of physical, mental, and metaphysical stress are all there. I have half a mind to summon one, or both, of them up and give them a piece of my mind. What the hell did they want to talk to you about that couldn’t have been done with a phone call? Or at least giving you a warning. Arrogant, self entitled...” I’d be more confused about her vitriol if I didn’t know how she feels about the biblical factions. Hawaii hasn’t had a great time with Christianity in general, really.

The story, as I understand it, is that when missionaries first started getting to the islands there was a lot of contention about whether or not the new religion should be adopted. The population was pretty divided, until a Hawaiian princes decided to take a risk and settle the debate. She decided to head up to the altar at the edge of the Kilauea caldera where offerings to Pele were left. The princess decided she would take food from the altar, and if Pele, who is known to have a spectacularly short temper and a tendency to over-reaction even by the standards set by gods, struck her down then they wouldn’t accept the new religion. If she lived then they’d convert to Christianity because clearly what they were doing already wasn’t necessary.

So she climbed up to the altar, and took the offerings to Pele.

Kilauea erupted, the old caldera blew its top, anywhere lava could come from it did, and has been since. The native Hawaiians and the Christian immigrants have been at each others’ throats ever since. Given their positions, Ku and Pua have apparently been involved in kicking more than a few devils and angels, fallen or otherwise, out of the islands. I don’t think the Islands could contend with any of the biblical factions, but there also isn’t anything on the islands worth the effort it would take to subdue them.

Which is why I’m more than a little concerned that Pua might actually go through with her stated intentions to summon Lucifer, and do something unfortunate to him. Or try to.

“Pua, please don’t do anything that would start a fight that would start a war, and probably get you killed? Please?” I finally break into Pua’s rant.

She just stares at me for a moment then laughs, and goes back to swearing. I look over at Ku to plea for an explanation of Pua’s insane behavior, only to find him looking slightly embarrassed, “What?” I demand from him.

He shrugs, and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his board shorts, “Normally, with any other faction really, I’d be right there with you.” He glances at me then back to her, “But about a decade ago we found the Book of Solomon in the hands of a cult in Egypt, while we were there so I could try and recreate the old Egyptian military arts.”

“The Book of Solomon?” I know who he is, I’m pretty sure. A Hebrew king, the one who proposed cutting a baby in half to see which of the two women claiming the kid actually cared about it. What this has to do with anything I have no idea.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ku waves my question off as Pua starts pulling various ritual components out of the drawers and shelves where she keeps them, “We should probably stop her before she does something that everybody’s going to regret, though.”

I nod hurriedly, I’ve seen what Pua can do with a ritual, I really don’t want to see what would happen if she decides to do something aggressive with one, “Come on Pua, I want to see if I can kick Ku’s ass with my new acquisitions, and I need your advice.”

Like the good Kahuna she is, the idea that somebody needing her snapps her out of her doom planning, “What?” Pua looks a little confused as her brother takes her by the shoulder, and steers her out of the room, “Who needs what?”

“Ericka needs therapy because she’s suffering from the delusion she can beat me in a spar.” Ku tells her as we leave her house.

“That’s not what I said at all!” I chase after them, chuckling to myself at Pua’s confusion, and Ku’s efforts to keep her that way for as long as possible.

He doesn’t manage it for long, but I do manage to get Pua focused on my second set of visitors last night. Ku is more than willing to give me some advice on teaching supernatural martial arts. Pua though, when I describe the events surrounding Koneko, gets very quiet and very pensive.

We end up in the same field where Ku first taught me, and get started, while Pua mulls over what I told her. My first swing nearly takes Ku’s head off, and I get thirty glorious seconds of him on the back foot, before he gets his feet under him, despite my best efforts, and things go back to normal. Or mostly back to normal. I can actually track what he’s doing and how he gets around my guard for a change. And, like when I sparred with Mia, the moves he makes stick in my mind like a burr, there to be used by me with only a little bit of practice.

Ku, for his part, goes through the whole spar with a huge grin on his face. Somehow he manages to figure out that I’m retaining physical movements better, and starts using a wider variety of techniques just so I can see them.

Pua spends most of the time her brother and I are attempting to kill each other, in the friendliest of fashions, writing something out in a notebook that she’d left to get soon after we’d started.

When we finish, I’m panting and exhausted and in desperate need of mana. Ku, the bastard, doesn’t look like he’s so much as taken a jog, never mind engaged in high intensity combat for several hours.

Pua tears out the paper she’s been writing on, folds it up, hands it to me. Then insists that I stay for dinner and tell them in person all about what I’ve been up to. I end up staying late, getting an impromptu therapy session to help me deal, and understand, what came up during the mass ritual suicide I took advantage of. No conclusions are reached, or at least I don’t reach any. Though Pua might have figured something out, and just decided to let me figure it out on my own, but I feel better afterwards anyway.

I actually forget about the note that Pua gave me until I find it while striping down for a shower. Pulling it out and looking it over, I find myself more than a little concerned.

Written in Pua’s neat hand is a list of symptoms for severe depression. Symptoms that look very familiar.

###

The list of symptoms haunts me for the next several days as Mia and I go through our normal routine. Some of the symptoms are obvious. Extreme apathy is basically Koneko’s main character trait at this point in time. Well, that and an obsession with sweets, which neatly fits into another item on the list, over eating. I’m pretty sure that if she wasn’t a devil, Koneko would be a white-haired feline blimp. Other symptoms are harder though, what the hell constitutes ‘oversleeping’ for a cat? Undersleeping I could identify, but oversleeping for critters that like to spend twenty hours a day unconscious no matter what’s going on is a bit harder.

I get concerned enough about it that I call Cait to try and interrogate her about the issue. Unfortunately she doesn’t pick up, which isn’t unusual. She frequently has to travel either on fae/cat business, or to acquire the more unusual books she sells in her store. Being out of contact during these trips is a common occurrence. Apparently Faerie doesn’t get cellphone reception.

Still, it leaves me less prepared than I want to be when my first agreed upon training session with the two devils arrives. Watching them arrive is interesting. Kiba is dressed in his uniform, which is fair enough. Learn to fight in what you expect to be fighting in. Which just raises the question of why he doesn’t have armor. I have to believe that devils have armor that can keep up with them. Not my problem really, just weird. He has a smile on his face, which some other female probably would find charming, and a bounce in his step that makes me think that he’s looking forward to what’s about to happen.

Some dark part of me, probably created by Ku, wants to work him hard enough to make him regret living.

Koneko walking beside him looks like an automaton. She has the same blank expression that she had the first time I saw her. She’s also dressed in her school uniform, the utterly ridiculous thing that passes as a girls uniform at Kuoh. She has a pair of fingered fighting gloves clutched in one hand. Just seeing her freaks me out a little, and I’m already matching up what I’m seeing with what Pua put on her list of symptoms.

Her lighting up a bit upon seeing me gives me a bit of hope though. She doesn’t speed up or alter anything really, but her eyes focus on me as she approaches. She walks at the same steady pace right at me until the tiny girl collides with my legs, and wraps her arms around my hips, and plants her face into my stomach. Her ears pop out of her head again, a pair or tails extend from under her skirt as she rubs her face in my shirt, and begin audibly purring again.

At least this time she doesn’t start crying.

I put a hand on the girl’s head, which makes her purr harder, and turns to look at Kiba. He seems to be just as lost as he’d been in my house the other day. I sigh, shrug, and get started, “Kiba, I’m sorry about this but I’m not going to be able to work with you much today. I’ve seen you fight so I have a clear enough idea of what you need, and what I can do for you. I’m going to have to see what Koneko can do though, and talk to her a bit about...” I trail off and look down at the girl who has shown no signs of noticing our conversation.

Kiba seema to understand what I’m getting at, and noda, “Of course Sensei, should I keep on with the exercise that you’ve already given me?”

I nod, “That’ll work. If you have any questions feel free to ask. She’s just going to have my focus today.” Kiba nods then heads over to the other side of the park, while I turn back to the small cat person trying to burrow into my stomach.

I really wish that I’d been able to get a hold of Cait, but just because I can't talk to her doesn’t mean she can’t help me. So, what would Cait do?

Spend the next several decades driving the devils responsible for the situation slowly insane.

Right... not helpful. What would Cait do right now? Well there’s a specific way that she always greets and says goodbye to me...

I pull the little cat away from me slightly, and kneel down so we’re closer to the same height. She looks up at me with the saddest eyes, like she’s afraid that my pushing her away is a rejection. That vanishes the moment I gently bump her forehead with mine, and then rub against the top of her head with my cheek.

I’ve gotten used to Cait doing this to me as a gesture of affection, but performing the actions myself is just weird. At least until I pull back from my greeting, and look at the girl’s face. I’m shocked to find she’s managed an actual smile, it's tremulous and small, but it’s an actual expression, and it’s there. She headbutts me back, purring, and I feel like I might just be able to help her after all.

After our greetings I get her to sit down facing me, no matter how much she wants into my lap, and get started on a few very serious conversations that we needed to have. Starting with, “So what is your name?”

She blinks at me and fidgets slightly, before answering, “Kitten,” in a soft voice. It occurs to me then that this is the first time I’ve heard her speak. That what she says communicates that she doesn’t even think of herself with a proper name, starts something hot and violent boiling deep inside of me.

I shake my head at her, “No, that’s what you are. And using it as a nickname, or term of affection, is fine. I have somebody who calls me Kitten, but that more describes our relationship than who I am.” I gently press a finger to her chest, “Who are you? What’s your name?”

The girl stares at me for a long moment, her yellow eyes meeting my gold ones without blinking. For a long moment I she’s silent, and I’m beginning to worry that she’s not going to answer me, or worse possibly doesn’t know any more. Especially as I see her eyes become bright with unshed tears, but after a wait that feels like an eternity, “Shirone,” she finally tells me, and I let out a breath in relief.

I really just want to ask Shirone to tell me her life story, but even for whatever inexplicable rapport we seem to have, it seems like too much too fast to go straight for that. So instead, “Right, well we’re here to help you fight better, so to start with why don’t tell me what sort of experience and training you’ve had before.”

The answer is not a lot. Much like Kiba, Shirone has been given some sort of initial training by a member of Lucifer’s peerage. In her case the Rook Surter, apparently a clone of the actual fire giant who’s supposed to burn the nine worlds to ash at Ragnarok. I don’t even want to think about how that might have happened. Still, it makes me wonder if any of the devils have any real idea how close quarters combat works. I’m sure that Surter is an excellent fighter, but he’s a fucking giant. A giant to teach a girl who barely makes five foot, counting her ears, and would have been even smaller then.

You can’t fight the same as a small person as you can as a large person. I should know seeing as I’ve been both. Hell, I still fight like a small person a lot of the time. Not to mention that Shirone describes Surter as a power fighter. A pugilist, somebody who embodies the tactic of take more and hit harder than the other guy, which will absolutely not work for the tiny cat Yokai.

So basically I’m starting from scratch.

Which is fine, I can work with that, but really what the hell is going on in these peoples heads?

I also use her willingness to talk and answer questions, to slowly pry her story out of her. How her older sister, Kuroka, who first taught her the basics of combat, volunteered to become a devil’s bishop so that she could take care of her little sister more easily. How Kuroka went insane from the use of senjutsu, and exposure to the negativity that saturates the world’s energy thanks to humanity. How Kuroka, in her madness, killed her king and the rest of the peerage she was a part of, then ran, leaving Shirone behind without so much as a word. How this led to an underworld wide purge of Nekoshu, Shirone’s breed of Yokai, which had before that been popular bishop pieces in a great many peerages. How Shirone had been caught almost immediately, how she had spent weeks in a small cage in a warehouse with other Nekoshu. Watching as they were taken one at a time, dragged out, and never came back. How she’d had to listen to her kind beg and plead and suddenly go quiet, all the while not really understanding what had happened and where he big sister was. Slowly coming to the realization that Kuroka wouldn’t be coming for her. How she had been rescued at the last moment, literally taken from the executioner's block which was saturated in the scent of thousands of her peoples blood, by Lucifer. How Lucifer had given her to his sister, how that sister had decided that her name would be Kitten. How Kitten had slept in Rias’ bed because that’s what the little devil girl had wanted, and it helped to keep the nightmares away. How her training had started almost immediately, alternating between the brutal combat lessons of the cruel fire giant, and being Rias’ house pet. Not that Shirone uses that term, but that’s what she describes.

By the time I get the end of the story out of her I’m livid, furious, almost literally seeing red. The only thing that keeps my voice from doing it’s new multi-tone dissonance trick, is the knowledge that Shirone doesn’t deserve to see even a hint of my temper. Shirone deserves all the help I can give her, and I will, no matter what that takes. By the time I leave the universe, if Shirone can’t dribble any other devil she comes face to face with down the street, it won’t be for a lack of trying.

We sit in silence for a long few minutes after Shirone finishes her story, during which she somehow once again ends up in my lap, though I can’t find it in myself to object. I look down at her, putting my hand on her head between her ears, which makes the tiny girl almost melt, “Well I think that’s enough heavy conversation. How about we get to hitting things.”

Shirone bounces to her feet and pulls on the gloves I noticed earlier. Padded combat gloves, with adorable pink paw prints on their back. It’s the most energy that I’ve ever seen out of the girl, and glancing back at Kiba’s stunned expression, it’s the most he’s seen too. I stand up, and start with the basics, how to punch and block and move. We’ll do kicks and more complicated techniques later. She takes to what I’m teaching her with a sort of determined enthusiasm that I’ve only ever seen in myself. The very idea that the next time something comes for her, that thing will end up being afraid of her, lights a fire in her that I doubt many people aside from myself can really understand.

Yeah, Shirone will be the most dangerous and powerful rook alive by the time I’m done with her, she deserves nothing less.

And after I finish training her today, Rias and I are going to have words.


	33. Book 1 - Harsh Truths

By the time training has finished I’ve calmed down enough to not go through with my first impulse. Which was to kick in the door of the ORC room, telekinetically launch Akeno out the nearest window, and grab Rias and shake some sense into her. It would be satisfying, and I’m pretty sure I could get away with it, I’d just have to leave immediately afterwards to avoid Lucifer. As satisfying as it would be though, I’m not sure it’s actually the best way to get what I want, which is help for Shirone.

So instead I calmly venture onto school grounds to find the Occult Research Club room. According to the show, it’s one room in an old, and otherwise unused, school building that still stands on the school’s grounds. Finding it isn’t hard. It’s located at the far end of the grounds hidden from the rest of the school by large stands of trees. An open space in front of the main entrance shows the signs of Kiba, at least, using it for training.

What really throws me is that there’s no barrier around the building. Nothing to redirect attention, or keep people away aside from perfectly the mundane camouflage of a mostly abandoned building. So I have no trouble just... walking in. The ORC room isn’t hard to find either. Even if I couldn’t just follow the feel of devil mana, it’s the only door in the place that doesn’t look like it needs replacing.

I pause briefly outside the door to take another deep breath and center myself enough to keep my temper contained. I’m not sure I’ll be able to hide how pissed I am in general, and honestly I’m not too interested in trying. I’m furious and, unlike Shirone, they deserve at least some of it.

I knock once before letting myself in, drawing surprised looks from Rias and Akeno. The king behind her desk, and the queen preparing tea at a service that looks a lot like the one in the student council room. In fact, once I took a glance around the room, I find it looks nearly identical to the student council room. Just fewer windows.

“Ah! Ericka-ch-san!” Rias almost squeaks as I wander forward and take a seat on the low table so I can face her directly, “How was the first training session?”

I eye her for a moment, “It went well, mostly. Kiba needs work but he knows that and is making progress.” Which is true, mostly. The most egregious flourishes have been removed, but it’s clear that he still doesn’t understand what his priorities should be in a fight, or what’s superfluous and what isn’t. I’m beginning to believe that the only way I’m going to be able to get through to him about this, is to spar with him and just hit him every time he does something dumb. “My other student has bigger problems though.” My voice starts trying to add tones and turn dissonant but I manage to keep it under control.

“What’s wrong with Kitten?” Rias asks, concerned.

I grit my teeth, “Well, there’s that for one thing.” The two devils look at me blankly, “You think of her as a pet.”

Rias reared back as though slapped, “I do not! How dare...”

“Then why do I hear you say ‘kitten’ every time you refer to her?” I have to take another deep breath to get my voice back under control, “Proper names don’t translate in Allspeak. I’ll let you work through what that means in your own time, because it’s honestly the least of Shirone’s problems.”

“Who?” Rias is looking a little shell shocked, but I don’t really care about that. Except for how it means she’s actually listening to me.

“Shirone. The real name of the little girl you took in and decided to make a pet out of.” If I didn’t have regeneration I’d be worried about my dentistry bills from how hard I’m gritting my teeth, “At the very least she’s suffering from severe depression. Very long term at that, or did you think that it’s normal for a little girl to act like a robot?”

Rias lets out a breath of what sounds like relief, which confuses me until she opens her mouth and then I’m nearly back to violence, “Oh. Okay, that shouldn’t be too hard to deal with. I’ll get the peerage together and we’ll reassure her that we love her and...”

I cut her off, surging to my feet, “Shut up. Depression isn’t something you can fix with a pep talk.” The derision in my voice on the words ‘pep talk’ is almost a physical thing, “She’s ill. Probably traumatized too. That’s just as serious, if not more so, for the mind than it is for the body.” At my sudden movement Rias rocks back in her chair slightly and Akeno steps forward, little bits of lightning dancing around her fingers. Outwardly I ignore her, my mental bowstring is pulled back as far as I possibly can though. If I let go of it like this we’ll probably have to collect Akeno from the street in front of the school, “You took in a little girl who had just been abandoned, watched everybody she knew die or abandon her, and was nearly executed herself, and your solution was to take away her name. The fact you lived with her for several years and never noticed that she was in nearly constant agony honestly blows my mind. Especially since you go on so much about how well you take care of your peerage, ‘like family’. It makes me wonder what else you’ve been ignoring, since you obviously are incapable of noticing even the most obvious mental health issues. Which Shirone’s qualify as, since I managed to figure out that there’s something wrong within thirty seconds of seeing her for the first time. So here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to reach into that vast Gremory network of contacts, and find a therapist in the know to help her, or I will.” I give a moment for them to respond, but the girls seemed stunned, so I continued on, “As for her fighting I’m starting her over from scratch. I don’t know who thought it would be a good idea for the thirty foot fire giant to teach the four foot Nekoshu how to fight, but they should be taken out back and shot.”

I pause a moment to see if they would recover to bring anything else up, but apparently I’d managed to bulldoze my way through the conversation fast enough that they hadn’t caught up yet. I nod once, and head for the door. Reaching it I pull it open and pause, “I can’t wait to hear from Shirone what you’ve done to help her the next time I see her.” I close the door behind me and head home. Unfortunately the day’s not over yet, I need information. Fortunately I have a font of it that hasn’t paid rent this month at home.

###

Mia isn’t home when I arrive, which doesn’t surprise me. She’s got nothing like a regular schedule, and whatever she’s doing for Yasaka on a regular basis keeps her pretty busy. I make use of the time to start making dinner. I never thought of myself as a cook, but I’ve had to take over the chore almost in self defense. What a crow demon thinks of as fine dining isn’t really fit for human consumption. On the other hand, it means that I never have to clean up which is great for several reasons. First, I don’t have to do it, which is obvious but important. The second is that Mia washing the dishes is great entertainment. For somebody who’s so physically gifted otherwise she turns into a complete klutz with the addition of hot water. So inevitably there’s a lot of squawking and hilarious noises that end with her being soaked from head to toe.

Every time.

Her excuse? “I’m not a swimmy bird.” with a pout. Dinner and a show, it's great.

Tonight though is pretty simple pasta so there won't be that much for her to clean up. Which means not as great of a show. But it works.

By the time Mia comes in the front door, which she’s never asked for a key to and I’ve never given to her, I’ve had the food ready for almost an hour and have already eaten myself. She looks tired but not enough to repress her seemingly infinite energy. I wait for her to shed her coat, and take a seat to start eating before I start trying to get answers out of her.

I take a seat at the kitchen table across from her where we normally eat, and wait until she notices. It takes only a few moments before she glances up from the bowl of pasta to look at me. I watch with some amusement as she takes in my posture and expression, before her eyes dart around the room in what I recognize as an attempt to find an escape route. After several seconds she sighs and gives it up as a bad job, “All right, what do you want.” She grumbles.

“Information. I got a crash course on the recent history of Nekoshu in the underworld. From a first person perspective no less. I want to know what actually happened, and given that Nekoshu are Yokai, I bet you know.”

Mia stares at me for a long moment before putting down her fork, “Okay, what’s all this about?”

I sigh and hesitate for a moment before continuing on, “You know the little Nekoshu that climbed into my lap when the devils invaded the house?” I wait for Mia to nod before I continue, “Well as it turns out her big sister set the whole thing off. She was probably the first Nekoshu captured and I’m wondering how accurate her account is.”

Mia sighs and sits back in her chair toying with her food, “That’s a harder question than you might assume. The basics, as I understand them, are that Kuroka joined a peerage run by a king that fancied himself the second coming of Beelzebub. He did a lot of experimentation on his peerage, which was something that Kuroka was willing to put up with until he started talking about experimenting on her sister. Your new student apparently. So she killed her king and ran hoping, according to her, to take the heat with her. We all know how that worked out.”

I frown, listening, “You sound like you’ve spoken to her.”

Mia shrugs, “If you were a Yokai on the run where’s the first place you would go? She didn’t stick around for long, but she gave us a rundown on what happened, at least the basics of it. Just in case the devils decided to do something stupid.” She sighs again and slouches, “Which they did. The aftermath is harder to be certain of, though not for the reasons you likely suspect. We know that a lot of Nekoshu were killed, but how many and what that did to their population nobody’s really sure. Nekoshu have always been rather secretive, and really good at hiding thanks to their senjutsu expertise. So nobody that I’ve ever spoken to knows how many there were to begin with, or how many died vs how many escaped. And we can’t just do a census now because most Nekoshu have vanished off the face of the earth. We’re pretty sure they’re not extinct, but proving it is the next best thing to impossible. There were rumors of a sort of cat Yokai underground railroad to somewhere further east, but again not something that’s ever been proven.”

“So basically nobody knows anything?” I ask with a frustrated sigh. Even as I watch Mia nod and shrug, all I can wonder is if this cat underground railroad that ran east has anything to do with Cait, who has been living on the west coast of the US for the last several decades. Something else to ask her about when I see her next, until then though, “Is there a report of any sort outlining this? One you could get your hands on?”

“Why...?” Mia asks slowly.

“Because if anybody deserves to know what actually happened it’s Shirone.” I tell her looking down at the table, and my finger scratching at it, “

“Yeah. I think I can manage that.” She answers softly.

We’re quiet for a long moment before I break the rather somber silence to ask something that’s been bugging me, “How does expertise with senjutsu equal hard to find?”

Mia shrugs, “As it turns out it’s hard to spot somebody who can literally become one with their surroundings.”

“Huh. I need to learn how to do that.” I murmur. My Tuatha based invisibility is as close to perfect as anything I’ve ever heard of, but it’s a power hog and requires quite a lot of active concentration. Something that could passively hide my aura could be very useful. If that’s how it worked.

Mia frowns at me for a moment, then looks like she just remembered something, “That’s right. You practice senjutsu too, if a really weird kind of it. Who’s teaching you that anyway? It’s not one of us, and you don’t really practice like a cultivator would.”

“Oh...” Had we really not talked about this? “Ku’uakii Ke’Kua’Okolani is teaching me.”

Mia chokes, “What? How? First the Lady of the Lake and now him? What’s next? Did his sister teach you magic or something?”

“Ah... actually...”

Mia drops her chopsticks and throws her hands up in the air, “How do you meet these people?!”

###

I stab another piece of PVC piping into the ground, and set a light bulb screw down into it. Finally done setting up, I look around the field where Mia and I go to practice and where we first met Kiba. Liberally scattered around the open area are more PVC pipes and light bulbs, all set up around a clear space in the center of the field. I nod once to myself, head to the center of my arrangement and get ready to practice.

One of the neat things I discovered pretty quickly once I started singing lessons, is that with a Siren’s voice box my range is stupid. I can hit any note from the bottom of bass to the top of soprano and further still in both directions. I can actually hit notes both above and below a human’s range of hearing. It’s lucky that I upgraded my hearing as much as I have, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to hear something like half my own range.

My vocal coach discovered my inhuman vocal talents on my first day of lessons when she told me to sing the lowest note I could, and then sing the smoothest scale I could manage to the highest note I could hit. At that point I had no idea what my voice could actually do, aside from break things, so I blew any cover I might have ever had pretty much immediately. Fortunately my coach was so giddy about what my voice could do, that she decided almost immediately that she didn’t care that what I was doing should have been humanly impossible. Instead she just devoted herself to trying to help me get the most out of my voice as I possibly could. Though I think my refusal to perform drove her to drink more than once.

My first lessons were on projection and control, which while not too directly applicable to the more supernatural aspects of my voice, are exactly what I needed. Which is why I’m out here now. The goal of the exercise, and the setup, is to only break the light bulbs that I intend to. Which I doubt I’ll manage, but if I can only break the ones in front of me, instead of all of them and the trees, I’d count it as a win.

Sitting on the ground next to me inside of a Script circle designed to protect what’s inside the circle from my voice, are a huge number of light bulbs. I figure I’m going to be going through a lot of them today.

I start with all the vocal warmup exercises that my coach adjusted for my range. I’m not sure how much they help given how my voice box has changed, but they can’t hurt. Once done with my warmups, I make sure that the Script around the spare light bulbs is still functioning then get to work.

I start with trying for a single note, sung pure and clear. I fail, my voice wobbling up and down in a fashion that makes me cringe. I may have the most spectacular voice of any human being on the planet, but that doesn’t mean I know how to use it. Still, I don’t need vocal perfection for what I’m doing.

Everything in front of me trembles, but nothing else. Slowly I try to maintain the note while slowly increasing the amount of mana rushing into my throat. Performing both tasks at the same time turns out to be fairly difficult. In order to keep a smooth note, I also have to keep the flow of mana smooth.

Which is something I do okay at for several minutes, but eventually my mana control fails me and a thick rush of mana barrels through my network to my throat. The lump of mana hits my voice box making me almost cough, if one coughed with a sung note. A shock wave rushes out from me, rolling like a wave across the field causing light bulbs to burst like soap bubbles and the PVC to bend and sway. The shock wave continues until it reaches the tree line, where it strikes the trees, and disperses in a shower of falling leaves.

I blink several times. That... isn’t at all what I was trying for... but it’s a neat trick anyway. And something I’ve actually accomplished, and I’m pretty sure I can do again. Maybe I’ll play with that for a while. I glance around me and my smile gets a little wider, the only broken light bulbs are in front of me. Granted the arc of destruction is about a quarter of everything I set up, but that’s still more focused than anything I’ve managed before.

...Still means I have to replace a quarter of my light bulbs.

###

A thump has me looking up from my work. I’m in the kitchen working on my Script projects, trying to figure out how to get some gap stuff to experiment with. My two projects are large enough that they can take up almost any amount of space that I’m willing to give them. The desk in my workroom has been completely taken over, so I moved into the kitchen for at least a little while. Now though a new file folder has been dropped in the middle of the table.

I look up from the new mass of paper to where Mia is standing across the table from me, raising an eyebrow in question, “It’s the file you wanted.” Mia tells me heading over to the refrigerator, “The one on the Nekoshu incident.” I look back at the folder that I feel like has somehow changed into something poisonous.

“Huh.” Is all I manage to get out.

“Huh indeed.” Mia’s muffled voice comes back from where she’s stuffed her entire top half into the refrigerator, “I got permission for you to read that, and for you to show it to Shirone. Nobody else is allowed access though.”

Carefully I pull the file closer to me with the eraser of my pencil, then use the same instrument to push the folder open and start to read.

Almost an hour later I sit back with a sigh, having finished the file. There’s a lot of information in there, but it’s basically a more detailed version of what Mia has already told me. Basically, that Kuroka is guilty of everything they say she is, though she didn’t act for the reasons that everybody assumes she had. There are some more entries about places she’s been spotted since the incident. Something that I make an additional note of, as she’s been spotted in some places with some regularity. Who knows when being able to find one of the most infamous criminals in devil history could come in handy?

Now though, I’m faced with a brand new problem, what am I going to do with this information? I glance up at the clock to check the time, before packing up my Script work and putting it away. I put Sclamhaire in her case, grab the folder then head out the door. Mia looks at me curiously but doesn't actually ask anything, so I felt no real need to speak. Really it should be obvious, with even a moment’s thought, where I’m going.

###

Kuoh Academy, when school is letting out, is a very different place than long after it lets out or far before it starts. Students swirl and mingle, the number of them significant enough that the patterns of their massed movement have begun to resemble a flowing liquid. I can hear Issei and his friends crowing about breasts and various girls' measurements somewhere in the crowd.

I ignore them as best I can, and push through the crowds towards the ORC building. The sound of clacking rattan on rattan makes me pause for a moment though, outside the school gym. My glance inside shows me that I’ve found where the kendo team practices. The girls are wearing their protective gear, sans helmets, watching Kiba trounce another girl.

I watch my student, wincing slightly. It’s not as bad as the first time I saw him, but still, “Kiba!” I call out from where I stand by the door to the gym.

The girls all turn to look at me with various expressions of displeasure, which turn to confusion when Kiba faces me and bows, “Ericka-sensei!”

That actually gets a smile out of me, and I walk further into the gym so I’m not shouting across it, “I’m glad you’re working to reduce the extras in your swordsmanship, but you’re going too far in the other direction. You’re stiffening up, I’d much rather you start something, and then check yourself, than make certain of your choice, and move too late.” I pause, “Not to mention that you’re exhausting yourself faster than you need to, keeping your muscles tense like that. Just remember everything works better when you’re relaxed.”

Kiba visibly thinks over my instructions for a moment then nods, “Yes Sensei.”

My smile widens a bit, “Go again. I want to make sure we understand each other.”

The knight nods again, and turns back to his sparring partner, picking up where they left off. I watch for a bit as Kiba tries to find a middle ground between constant flourishes, and trying not to tense up. It’ll come with practice as long as he keeps trying.

One of the kendo girls sidles up to me as I watch Kiba, and after standing there for several moments finally speaks up, “Ano... You’re Yuuto-san’s teacher?” I look down at the girl and blink, then nod, “In Kendo?”

I manage to not snort, “No. In sword fighting.” From the look of confusion on her face she’s not really sure how that’s different from Kendo. After a moment I decide to answer the unspoken question, and turn my gaze back to Kiba, “Fiore Furlano was one of the last sword masters to teach the sword to people actually expected to use them in war. One of my favorite sayings of his is, ‘when in doubt, punch them in the throat’. That’s the difference. What I do has nothing to do with scoring points, it’s all about being the last one standing as quickly as possible.” I look back down at the girl, “I’d do terribly in competition, and nothing I do should be used by anybody in a contest. It looks like Kiba has the right idea now, I should get back to what I was doing.” I nod to the girl and continue to the ORC building.

###

The ORC room is exactly as I’d left it a few days ago. Right down to where people are, Akeno’s making tea, Rias’ is sitting behind her desk doing... whatever it is she does with her time. The only difference is that Shirone is sitting on one of the couches, her homework spread across the low table. The way she has to bend over the low table from the couch looks uncomfortable as hell.

“Ericka-san!” There was barely a hitch in the suffix that time, maybe Rias is getting a hint? “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit.” That’s a lot more polite than I was expecting from her after my reading her the riot act on my last visit.

I don’t respond to Rias directly, and instead turn to Shirone. The little white haired girl is looking up at me with an actual smile, small but there from nothing more than my presence. I smile back at her and take a seat while putting the file down in front of the cat girl, “I brought that for you. After you told me your story the other day I did some digging.” The other two devils are staring at me in shock but I ignore them, “Apparently your sister,” Shirone flinches just slightly at the mention of her only living relative, “after what happened ran to the Yokai as her first port of call. That is the file on her interview, and what the Yokai know about the aftermath. If you’re interested I got permission to let you read that, so you can know what actually happened, and why Kuroka,” another flinch, “did what she did. It’s your choice, if I were you though I’d want to know.”

With that I stand and give her some space, moving to the windows and looking out of them. I don’t visibly pay any attention to what Shirone does, not wanting to pressure the girl. My ears though paint me a good enough picture of what goes on behind me though. She stares at the folder for a long several minutes before opening it up, and beginning to read.

I let out a sigh and continue to wait, only to feel a new presence next to me. I glance to the side and discover a head of red hair looking out the windows next to me. Rias and I stand in silence for several minutes before she turns to look at me, “Do you really know a skilled supernaturally aware therapist?” My only response is to nod, “How do you know they’re trustworthy?”

“Well... I don’t really have an answer that would satisfy you, but I know them because they’re who I go to.” I shrug, “So that should tell you how much I trust them at least.”

Another few minutes of silence, “Could I meet them?”

“I could probably talk them into coming out here for a visit.” I answer after a few moments of thought.

“Why couldn’t I go to where they are?” Rias frowns.

I shrug, “I suppose we could do that, but I figured that you’d want to avoid Hawaii like the rest of the biblical factions.”

The way Rias suddenly pales at the idea of visiting the islands is something that I strangely find viscerally satisfying.

###

It’s taken Shirone a couple of hours to get through the entire file, and several more before she stops crying. Apparently knowing that her sister hasn’t gone insane, but instead acted to protect her, and furthermore hadn’t just abandoned Shirone, but had tried to take the heat with her, makes a huge difference to the girl. That Kuroka utterly failed to take all that heat with her when she left, means very little in contrast.

By the time that Shirone has finally run out of tears, almost half an hour after she’s cried herself to sleep, and can be pried off of me, the sun has begun to set. As much as I kind of want to take Shirone home with me, I really can’t. So I leave her with Rias, no matter how much I don’t want to.

I take my leave then, making sure to take Mia’s file before either of the other two can get a look at it, and head back towards the front entrance of the school, enjoying the way the low sun bathes everything around me in an orange glow. What I don’t expect is to find another devil waiting for me in the school courtyard.

Sona is dressed in the school uniform, her normal severe expression enhanced by her glasses. Behind her mask though, I can see a hint of nerves, and possibly a faint dusting of rose in her cheeks. The color could just be a product of the sunset though.

I stop walking at an easy conversational distance, and give her a crooked smile, “Miss Sitri, fancy meeting you here. Is there anything I can do for you?”

The color in her cheeks increases slightly, her frown more dramatically, “Yes. I had thought your intention was to make me and my peerage your primary contacts.”

I blink, what? “I do...?”

“You have been spending a great deal of time with the Gremory peerage if that is the case.” Sona tells me flatly. Is... is she jealous?

...

I don’t really know how to respond to that, aside from letting my smile become more natural, “I agreed to teach Kiba how to actually use a sword properly, and Shirone how to fight at all.”

“I thought that Yuuto-san is quite good at handling a sword.” Sona frowns, “And who is Shirone?”

I sigh, “Yes, Kiba is quite good at handling a sword, somewhat less good at fighting with one. We’re fixing that though. Shirone is Koneko’s actual name.”

Sona blinks several times in shock, before shaking herself and refocusing, “I see. Still I insist that we work on our rapport if we are to liaise with each other.”

“I... Oookaaaaay...” I stare at the girl for a moment, then shrug. It’s not like I have anything better to do than go home, beat my head against Script, or listen to Mia mock performers on the singing shows she likes. She’s a fantastic mimic, perhaps unsurprisingly, but watching her MST3K reality TV is something I can only take for so long, “Sure, what do you want to do then?”

Her stern visage falters for a moment, “Right now?” I raise an eyebrow at her and she rallies, “Well...”

Which is how five minutes later I find myself playing another game of chess with Sona Sitri. I’ve taken up my previous strategy almost immediately, and already Sona is frowning at the board like she’s just discovered that it has been lying to her, “What are you doing?” She finally demands after tentatively moving a pawn.

I consider not telling her for a moment, what I’m doing would be much harder if she knew what to look for. On the other hand, this is a game and not even one I’m particularly interested in, “I know losing this is inevitable. This is literally the second game of chess I’ve ever played, and you’re you.” Sona smiles at the compliment blushing slightly, “So instead I’m trying to keep you from winning. I won’t pull that off either, but this way I can make you work for your win.”

“I knew it.” Sona mutters quietly enough that I’m sure I’m not supposed to hear it.

I raise an eyebrow and play along, “What?”

Sona jolts, and coughs once, “I wanted to thank you for warning me that my sister was coming.”

I shrug, hiding a smirk at the topic change, and move a rook, “Your sister was... interesting to say the least. She didn’t seem like the sort of person that could really be handled without proper bracing. She certainly ran all over me in that conversation.” I pause for a moment then continue with a tone of voice appropriate for the statement, “At one point she checked out of the conversation to braid my hair. It's... I don’t even...” I shake my head to communicate the shear what the fuck of the situation.

Sona lets her face fall into her hands, “My sister, greatest diplomat in the underworld. Taking a break from negotiations to braid the other party’s hair. Just... Why Serafall, why?”

I can’t help but smile at her, laughing slightly to herself, “I hardly think that was the most embarrassing thing she did during that meeting.”

“I don’t want to know, do I?” I just shrug at her and make my move on the board. After several minutes of silence, where we actually focus on the game, Sona finally caves, “Fine tell me.”

“Well it would depend on what you find embarrassing.” I temporize.

“So for my sister, nothing.” Sona mutters.

I shoot her a grin and keep going, “But it would be a toss up between the magical girl intro pose she did on my front door step,” I ignore Sona’s quite groan of agony, “and her begging me to guest star on her TV show.”

Sona slumps into her seat with a sigh, “The doorstep thing is the worst definitely, but the TV show is a close second.”

I shrug, “I don’t know, I was sort of tempted. I’d be a lot more tempted if it wouldn’t involve literally going to hell and being dependent on somebody else for transportation out again.”

“I... can see how that would be unappealing for a human.” Sona says slowly. She falls silent again as we refocus on the game for several more minutes, before she sighs, “They do film on location in the human world quite frequently. You could probably do the show up here without ever having to go to the underworld.”

I blink, “Really?” Sona nods, “Well, that is interesting. Maybe I’ll take her up on that after...” I’m interrupted by the sound of my phone going off. Grumbling I pull it out of my pocket, and check to see what it wants. Slowly though my expression shifts to a smile.

On my phone is a text with an attached file from Lucifer, the file is simply titled ‘Roanoke’.


	34. Book 1 - Croatoan

So.

Roanoke.

The Lost Colony.

Founded in 1585 on the island of Roanoke off the coast of North Carolina. It lasted, for sure, until 1588, the last time anybody saw it intact. The next time somebody checked on it in 1590 the entire place was found fortified to within an inch of its life, and empty. The entire 120 or so colonists vanished without a trace, the only clue being the word CROATOAN carved into one of the trees inside the colony palisade. It was assumed that the word was a reference to the nearby Croatoan peninsula where a native tribe was known to live, a message left saying where the colonists had fled to. No evidence had ever been produced to prove that theory beyond some rumors that Caucasians were seen among the local tribes in the area.

No hard proof of where the colonists went had ever been found. Even why they left or had to fortify to the extent they had is still a complete unknown. Roanoke island was abandoned, and no attempt had ever been made to reclaim it.

At least that’s all the official mundane history has to tell.

The records that Lucifer sent me, and how he got sealed Church records I have no idea and I’m not really sure I want to know, add some rather interesting additional information. According to the Church, they received word in 1587 that the colony was being beset by monsters and suffering under some pagan curse. The colony begged for aid and, in response, the Church sent an Exorcist armed with Excalibur Blessing to defeat the monsters and free the colony from the curse. The ship the Exorcist sailed on should have arrived at the colony in 1589. Of course whether it had or not is unknown as the ship was never heard from again. The colony was found empty and no sign of the Excalibur or the Exorcist was ever found.

Not for a lack of trying though. Several subsequent expeditions had been sent to the island to try and determine what had happened and to recover the sacred blade. None of them were ever heard from again, either.

This is where I’m going.

Island of Death.

I go to all the best vacation spots.

Well, I’m certainly not going in there without as much information as I can get.

I wonder if any of the tribe native to the Croatoan peninsula are still around?

###

It takes almost a week to get out of Kuoh, even after I know where I’m going. I have to make sure Mia won’t burn the house down or starve without me there. I have to make sure that my students will have things to work on without me. I have to find my way to the east coast of the US, which is a place I’ve never been so I don’t have an address Script anywhere useful. Which means I’m reduced to mundane travel.

The entire trip takes just about three days. Two days of flights, with layovers, eventually ending in the Pitt-Greenville Airport. A rented car and another day of driving lands me in a little town called Manns Harbor, which is as close as one can get to Roanoke island without physically being on it. It’s also one of the few pieces of civilization in the area that, back in the day, was called Croatoan.

Finding surviving members of the native tribe of Croatoan is both easy and hard. Easy because all it takes is a few internet searches to discover that they do in fact still exist. Hard because there’s maybe four of them. They all belong to the same family, and do live in Manns Harbor.

The house I eventually find is... well it’s a single story, the exterior is painted in a sort of lime green that can’t have been considered a good color even in the sixties. Which given how faded and peeling the paint is, has to be when it was last painted. The windows are clean, but the lawn, surrounded by a waist high chain link fence, is filled with weeds and in dire need of a cutting. A single path made of concrete runs from the sidewalk up to the front door of the house.

I pause to take the entire place in, and for the first time I’m actively glad that my life has turned into the bizarre urban fantasy novel that it has. The constant risk of getting torn apart or enslaved by supernatural monstrosities is vastly preferable to getting trapped in the existential hopelessness and despair of a place like this. I let out a shuddering breath and shake off the feeling of mild creeping dread at the idea that I could have ended up being so much less than I am, and headed up the path to the door.

The front door is covered in the same peeling horrendous color as the rest of the house, and is blocked by a rusted screen door. Set into the wall next to the door is a battered doorbell. After a moment's hesitation I press the button, and can hear a staticy electronic bell go off deeper within the house.

After a short pause the sound of footsteps heads towards the door, and moments later the inner door is pulled open. The man on the other side is about my age, maybe a few years older. He has Native American coloring, and his long black hair is pulled back into a simple ponytail. He’s dressed in a pair of battered jeans and a loose flannel shirt. His expression goes from one of irritation, to a rather awkward looking smile once he gets a good look at me.

I think he’s trying to be flirtatious?

I give him my best come hither smile back, which is terrible I have no doubt, since I’ve never tried to make such an expression before in my life. It seems to work on him though, as his smile becomes a little more natural.

“Can I help you?” He asks, sounding hopeful.

“Yes!” I try to sing my words just a bit as I speak, to try and get a little bit of the sirens' mesmerizing voice. Not sure how well it works but I don’t sound forced, so at least I’m not making things worse. “I’m working on a project, and I was hoping to get some native accounts of some famous historical events.”

“Oh, what events?” He asks, leaning against the door frame, in a voice that I think is supposed to be smooth. It comes off as slimy, instead.

That’s possibly just me though.

“Roanoke colony primarily.” I try as hard as I can to maintain my smile without letting it curdle. Why is it so much easier to spot that this guy is flirting with me when I really don’t want him to, when spotting Lei do the same thing was so hard, even though I was interested?

He makes a face at the name then sighs, “Come on in, I’ll see if my grandmother will speak to you. She’s the one that knows all the old stories.” He pushes open the screen door to lets me in, and smirks slightly as I squeeze past him. “Maybe afterwards I can get you a coffee or something.”

I maintain my smile, but don't answer him. To his credit, he doesn’t seem put off by the fact that I have four or five inches, and at least fifty pounds of muscle on him. It’s not going to get him a coffee date obviously, but it reduces his jackass quotient by quite a bit.

The interior of the house is walking a fine line between cozy and cluttered. Everything inside is old and battered, he led me through the living room and past a couch that must be as old as the paint job. The walls are lined with cabinets and bookshelves, the cabinets are filled with local native art that, it occurs to me, are probably legit and likely belong in a museum. The books are all old and faded, titles nearly unreadable and pages yellowed.

The man leads me through the main room and down a hallway into a bedroom. Like the rest of the house it’s full of antiques, that I really believe were placed in their current home when they were new. Right up to the old CRT TV at one end of the room, and the bed facing it. To either side of the bed near the head board are a pair of chairs for visitors to sit on. On the bed cocooned in ancient handmade patchwork quilts, is an equally ancient woman. White wispy hair floats around her head, and dark eyes peer at us from deep within an old wrinkled face.

“Who is this woman, grandson?” The old woman speaks in a rough, but clearly understandable, voice and in a language I’ve never heard before.

Her grandson replies in English, “She’s working on a history project, wanted to talk to you about Roanoke.”

The old woman snorts, “Smart to want a better account than what the white histories say. But how will she understand my words? Will you play translator?”

“That won't be necessary.” The strange words fall out of my mouth like it’s the only language I’ve ever spoken.

Allspeak, for the win.

The old woman breaks into a fit of wheezing cackles, and the young man stares at me with open mouthed shock. “You speak the people’s tongue girl?” the old woman asks, with a huge smile displaying her few remaining blackened teeth.

“Evidently.” I reply back to her, smiling slightly.

“Good. I am impressed. Now tell me your questions and I will try to answer.” She waves me to take a seat on one of the chairs by her bed, which I do, setting Sclamhaire’s carrying case upright next to me where I can easily keep a hand on it.

“I really only have one. What happened to Roanoke?” Some part of me is hoping that she’ll be able to tell me something that will give me a lead on who might have taken the Excalibur when the colony fell, and where. If I’m really lucky, I won’t even have to go to the island.

“I do not know for certain.” The woman starts slowly, “I am old, but not that old, I was not there. But I can tell you what I was told.” I nod to her, that’s about what I’m hoping for, “The white men came and built their houses on the island that they called Roanoke, and for a time everything was fine. We had no use for the island, our own lands providing for us everything we needed. We thought that would be it, they would stay on their island, and we would stay on the mainland.” She sighs, “It was not to be. First came their missionaries, and when we were not interested in listening to them, the missionaries brought men to make us listen. So we listened, and ignored them. We were not a warlike people, and hunters are not soldiers, we had little other choice. The missionaries grew frustrated and angry at our dismissal of them, so they picked somebody to make an example of. They took the chief’s daughter and burned her alive, telling us that they were saving her soul, purifying her of sin in fire. That if we accepted their god such measures would not be necessary.” She makes a disgusted noise, “The implication was that they would continue to kill us one at time until we either gave in or were all dead. We were not warriors so we could not fight them, but we had shamans. The shamans did something to the island itself, laid a curse on it perhaps, I am not a shaman, I do not know.” The old woman lets out a rattling sigh and closed her eyes, “What I do know is that the white men were never heard from again, nor was anybody who went to investigate.”

“Nobody has been to the island since then?” I ask.

“People have gone, none have returned.” She opens her eyes and looks at me again, “Do not go there girl, life is more precious than whatever you seek.”

I, of course, plan to ignore the old woman’s advice completely.

###

Actually getting to Roanoke is more difficult than I thought it would be. Manns Harbor has plenty of boats moving in and out of it. Harbor is right there in the name after all. And every single one of them is perfectly happy to take an attractive young woman out on the water.

At least until I tell them where I want to go. Then there’s a slew of refusals. Some of them suddenly remember that they have prior commitments, others have sudden and inexplicable mechanical problems with their boats, some just flat out refuse. The change always comes when I mention Roanoke.

It takes a couple of days to find a boat that will take me out, and doesn’t balk at my destination. That boat belongs to an old fisherman that doesn’t do a lot of fishing any more. He agrees to take me out to Roanoke, and even to check back a day or so later to pick me up should I want to leave. The way he says that implies that I’d either want to leave, or be dead. And after implying it he flat out tells me that anybody who’s gone to the island has never left it again.

A warning that I, again, ignore.

Well not entirely. Every time I hear about how much of a death trap this island is, the more paranoid I become. Nobody can tell me why it's dangerous though, which means I can’t really judge how large the risk factor is. So I go in planning for the worst, and hoping for the best.

I don’t spend those two days just looking for a ride to the island. I learned my lesson from my last attempt at a camping trip, so I check what the weather is going to be like, what kind of terrain I’ll be in, and buy supplies and equipment, suitable to what I learn in my free time. This time I intend to be prepared.

Which is why, in the late afternoon, I’m standing on the deck of an old fishing boat near the prow with two large duffel bags of gear around my feet. I watch the coast of the island approach in the distance. I’m in full armor, with my hood down, Sclamhaire is on my back, and my athame is across my hips. Every time I put it all on after having not worn it for a while, I get a lesser version of that feeling of completeness that I felt the first time I touched them. The feeling of being whole again after being in too many pieces, spread too far, for too long.

The armor got a weird look from the fisherman, my eyes without the sunglasses got a second one. He doesn’t say anything though, just crosses himself, and when I don’t react he just shrugs and moves on.

As we approach the island I get my first real information about it, as it comes in range of my mana senses. It doesn’t help as much as I could wish for. Thanks to the way Mana Breathing approaches the energy of the world, and what mana is, there’s no such thing as twisted or corrupted mana. Just mana balanced differently, more of some kinds of things that make up mana and less of others. Which isn’t to say that being able to read how mana is balanced can't tell you about a thing.

Unfortunately I’m not experienced enough to separate out all the different parts of the mana I’m feeling to figure out what it all means. I can feel that the mana of Roanoke is... darker than the area around it for lack of a better term. There are so many options to explain what could be causing what I’m feeling, that picking one is impossible. There could be a secret cadre of fallen angels hiding on the island. There could be a natural portal to the underworld hidden somewhere on it. The island could be full of angry ghosts. Some other monster could have moved in. The spirits of the island could be angry about something. A lot of people could have been very pissed off or miserable there for a long time. Or it could be the lingering effects of an ancient shaman’s curse.

The feeling puts me on edge though, because whatever is causing it, there’s a lot more mana concentrated in Roanoke than there is in the surroundings. So whatever it is, it’s powerful. Though again, how much of a problem that is depends on what that powerful thing is and what it can do with that power. The island could just have the weight of a lot more dark history than I’m aware of.

Whatever it is, I’m not going to find out, or find the Excalibur, standing on this boat.

The fishing boat pulls up next to the remnants of an old wooden dock. The wood is rotten, and coming apart, and still looking far too good for it’s five hundred years of age. I don’t have a lot of choice though, so I pick up my camping gear and head for the pier.

“Are ya sure ya want to do this, lass?” The rough voice of the fisherman calls to me as I reach the edge of the boat.

I pause to look back at him, and find him looking genuinely concerned. I give a brief laugh, and a shrug, “Not really. Needs must though.” No devil driving this time though, just a Fae.

I wonder which is worse.

The old man nods and sighs, “Aye, I can see that. I’ll be back around tomorrow evening to check on ya, and get ya off should ya need it.”

“Thanks. Hopefully I’ll see you and get out of here then.” The old man just snorts and waves me off.

So with a hop, I land on the dock which immediately begins coming apart under my feet. Twenty or so hurried steps, and I set foot on the island of Roanoke for the first time.

###

The path from the pier to the colony itself is completely overgrown, but still clearly visible despite that. Trees lined a trail of bushes and uneven grass that hid ancient wagon ruts. The entire island seems to be covered in lush green. I’m very quickly glad that I have my armor on, as every twig, branch, and burr tries it’s best to catch on my armor. Wood and grass find no purchase on enchanted cloth or fairy metal, but the constant irregular tugs at what I’m wearing as I break free of the grasping vegetation, gets annoying very quickly.

The trail ends as I reach a set of barely recognizable wooden gates. I step through them and am in the Roanoke colony proper. The decaying remains of five hundred year old wooden buildings erupt out of the tall, dry, dead grass like tombstones. An impression accented by the random skeletal trees scattered about. At the center of the colony are the remnants of the town well, stacked stone partially collapsed surrounded by what was once the village square. Circling the entire colony is a log palisade that by some miracle, is still standing more or less intact.

It honestly feels like I’ve walked onto the set of a horror movie.

Well, my first step is to set up camp.

I find a mostly clear space where the rocky ground is solid enough stone that nothing has managed to grow there, even better I can set up under the shelter of several of the trees. They’re barren of leaves, which is odd for this time of year, especially considering the rest of the island, but still better than nothing. Moving quickly I set up my tent under the shelter of two of them, putting the back of my tent up against one of their trunks, and used the other tree close by as a windbreak for my fire pit.

A fire pit which becomes my next priority. I clear out an area of the mostly bare stone of even the smallest bit of flammables. Next I make a circle of smaller stones, then set about preparing a fire so that when the sun goes down, and I need it, all I’ll have to do is put a match to the dry grass I’m using as tinder.

With that finished, my last task is suspending all my food supplies in a sack hung from a cord stretched between the two trees giving me shelter. I’m pretty sure that there are no bears on Roanoke, but there’s enough wildlife in general that I’m unwilling to take the chance. There are plenty of other animals that would love to hit me up for a free meal, and I’m not willing to feed them either.

Finally with my camp set, fire prepared, and food secured I’m ready to get to what I came here for.

###

When I heard of the Lost Colony I imagined a grand mystery. A small town where one day everybody living there just inexplicably vanished. Food left uneaten on the tables, clothes left hanging in the closets. An entire population that just up and disappeared without a trace.

What I find exploring the still standing buildings is nothing like that. Whatever happened to the colonists they fought, and fought hard. Bullet holes and ancient burn scars are everywhere. I find a wood axe lodged deeply into the wall of a house, a suspicious stain that I suspect of being long vanished dried blood clings to the rusted metal of the axe head. More telling is the skeleton covered in some of the only green vegetation I’ve found inside the palisade, right underneath the axe. The bones of its neck are clearly broken by something at least passably sharp and heavy.

With that discovery I start looking for bits of color. I find other patches of green scattered everywhere around the colony. Each of them marks the location of a skeleton. A place where one of the original colonists died. Or more accurately was killed. I find pitchforks lodged in rib cages, bullet holes in skulls. In one case a skull crushed with the sad remains of an ancient rolling pin still lodged in the bone. Even the livestock wasn’t spared whatever happened here. I find the heavy bones of horses, oxen, and goats in what used to be pens. Each of them killed by some man made tool.

Whatever happened here it was a massacre, and the people here had fought like hell to save their homes. They’d failed spectacularly, but I can respect that drive to go down swinging. I’m not sure how many colonists there were, or how many little spots of green I found, but it feels like I found enough bones to account for everyone who lived here.

Moving through the houses and other buildings is strange. The mana in the ruins is thick, and heavily weighted towards something I’ve never encountered before... Or maybe something vaguely like a Fallen? Whatever I’m feeling definitely isn’t a fallen angel, but now that the idea has entered my head I can’t shake the feeling of similarity.

More than the mana though, is how well preserved everything is. Despite the centuries of age that the wooden buildings have survived, they still stand remarkably intact. Despite the rot that’s visible in every board, I can still move around the second floor of the few buildings that have one. Doing so is nerve wracking though, my ears are tuned to every creak and groan, listening for the pop or snap that would indicate a board failure.

Pushing open a door is even more anxiety inducing, as most of the hinges have rusted in place, so pushing on them makes it even more likely that I’ll push myself through the floor. The third door I try to open the floor finally gives way, my armored boot plunges through the rotted wood under it. Fortunately my other foot still has purchase, so I end up flinging myself through the stubborn door in an effort to escape falling to my doom. The door is reduced to splinters, even as the floor I’d been standing on gives up completely, falling with a loud clatter to the floor below.

The room I find myself in is a bedroom, even more well preserved than the rest of the town. The furnishings are largely intact, a simple desk and a bed. Or rather bed frame, the mattress and ropes that would have held it up have not survived the passage of time. Lying on the ground in the bed frame though, is something even more odd.

A skeleton lays there in a way that makes me think that they’d been laying on the bed when they died. The bones, unlike all the others I’ve found, aren’t covered in greenery though. The body wears armor, a cuirass, and has a metallic scabbard laying next to him. Once it was probably belted around his waist, now though the belt is long gone and it simply lays next to him on the floor. No sign of a sword though, which ignites all sorts of suspicions about who this might have been. What really grabs attention though, is the small leather bound book clutched in the skeletons’ hands.

The book looks to be mostly intact, and might prove to be invaluable. Though every genre savvy bone in my body is screaming at me that if I move that book, the skeleton will come to life and try to kill me. On the other hand this is the best lead I’ve found yet.

So, carefully, I reach down, tug the book free, and then jump back, cringing slightly. I have the book clutched in one hand, the other resting on the hilt of my athame. I hold my breath for several moments staring at the bed frame, waiting for the skeleton to get up and do something... anything?

Nothing happens.

After several minutes I start breathing again, and relax slightly.

Maybe this isn’t a horror movie after all...?

Finally, I look away from the bed frame on the other side of the room, and focus instead on my prize. Carefully I open the first page to see what I’ve found. Allspeak is a wonderful thing, instant knowledge of the spoken and written form of any language I see or hear. This is the first time I’ve seen a language before hearing though, and the experience is a little odd. For just a moment all that’s there are scribbles on a page. They might make letters, but the idea that there are words, or information contained within them is just absurd. Then the world blinks slightly, and suddenly... well the book still makes no sense, but for completely different reasons. Instead of being incomprehensible because I don’t know the language, it’s incomprehensible because the penmanship is awful, and time has caused the ink to both bleed and fade in various places.

I can, however, make out a little bit right at the top of the first page, ‘Field Journal -orcist...’

###

The field journal is about half filled with mostly illegible writing. If I want anything out of it I’ll have to go looking for the bits and pieces that are still legible and hope. But that’s not something I’m going to do on a floor of questionable structural integrity, next to a five hundred year old corpse. Especially not since I have a campfire waiting for me, and the temperature is beginning to drop.

My breath fogs the air as I make my way back towards my campsite. Clouds have covered the sky since I went into the last building, making it seem later than it is. The sun’s still up, if on it’s way down, but it’s already dark enough that I’m grateful for my night vision. The ground has become damp as well, making moving a little bit harder. The softened footing sucking at my boots, and roots that had been safely contained underground are now available for me to trip on. Having that fire ready to go is going to be spectacular...

My thinking grinds to a halt at what I find where my camp site used to be. One of the branches I tied the rope I suspended my food from, has snapped letting the food bag hit the ground. Squirrels are fleeing with my granola bars and trail mix. A team of four raccoons has my fruit, and a few canned goods that I brought just in case I ended up stuck here longer than I planned, and are slinking into the night. Finally a single coyote has somehow stuffed all my jerky, and the hotdogs I planned to roast for dinner, into his mouth. He gives me a challenging look, before casually trotting away. The hotdog buns, and remaining food, have all been torn open and scattered on the ground, rendering them inedible.

The branch that had broken has somehow impaled my tent. The poor cloth edifice had one wall ripped open and the floor impaled to the ground, causing the entire thing to collapse and become entangled with the branch. To top it all off somehow the ground around my campsite had flooded, soaking my sleeping bag, the campfire, and the hotdog buns.

I suck in a deep breath, and exhale hard through my nose, white plumes drift in the air for a moment before blowing away, “It’s okay.” I assure myself, “I can still make this work. Most of the wood for the fire is still good and dry, and grass is easy to find. The matches ought to be around here somewhere.” I nod to myself reaffirming my determination, “I’ll just...”

With a sound like a gunshot, the trunk of the second tree’s trunk shatters, and without even the grace to be slow and ponderous about it, the tree crashes into the campsite. Annihilating the campfire, and anything left of my tent and sleeping bag.

“Fuck it.” I mutter. I stand quietly for a moment as the temperature continues to drop, the ground now beginning to freeze, “Fuck it!” I shout that time. With determined stomping that my five year old self would be proud of, I go to find a dry spot to set up my new camp. Such as it is. I find another open area of rock that I somehow missed my first time through. How I have no idea, but it’s the top of a slightly raised area, so whatever is causing the flooding hasn’t managed to get any water up here yet.

With no ceremony whatsoever I draw Sclamhaire, and drive her half way into the stone under my feet. Immediately her pommel gem lights up as she drinks down the unusually abundant mana on the island, and vents the energy out again as light and heat. As it turns out she’s better than any campfire. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.

With a sigh I sit down, and lean my back against the flat of Sclamhaire’s exposed blade, using her as a back rest. The gem keeps me warm, and provides more than enough light to try and read by.

Try turns out to be the right word.

The majority of the journal has been rendered illegible. I can read maybe three words on every page, and figure out another five or six. Which is entirely inadequate for extracting any sort of information from the journal. Still, it’s all I’ve got to go on, so I go through it one page, one line, one Rorschachesque blob of ink that were once words, at a time.

I almost don’t notice when the sun goes down, and it begins to snow. Which is entirely unseasonable, but at this point I’m anything but surprised. The storm clouds overhead continue to grow thicker and darker, the air colder and colder, but Sclamhaire takes care of me, and keeps me in a bubble of light and warmth.

As I reach the end of the journal, something jerks my attention away from the book to my surroundings. Something has moved out there... I’d almost swear that it’s human shaped, but I’m more than familiar with how the human mind can find a familiar outline absolutely anywhere. I turn back to the book with only a few pages to go. I’m not really hoping for much, the further along I go the more erratic and messy the writing becomes. That on top of the degradation I’d been dealing with already, and I haven’t found anything legible in the last ten pages, and don’t expect to find anything in the few pages that are left.

Finally I get to the last page, and blink. Across the last used pages are just two words written large enough that even time hasn’t been able to render them illegible. My attention is jerks back to the world around me by a rattling, clicking sound that’s only just audible to my improved hearing. I drop the book, and slowly stand, gripping Sclamhaire’s hilt, instantly snuffing out the light and heat she produced. The cold comes crashing in on me, and I begin to shiver almost at once. I’m not too worried though. The exercise I’m about to get with the army of vegetation covered skeletons that have surrounded me, their approach muffled by the snow, will be more than enough to keep me warm.

And while I’m doing that, I’ll hopefully be able to work out just what an army of animated bones has to do with a genius loci.


	35. Book 1 - Roanoke

Hundreds of skeletons had surrounded me while I read. Snow lies thick on the ground, except for in a circle around me where Sclamhaire has been radiating heat. Even that is rapidly being filled in by the steadily worsening storm. In spite of the vivid, almost fluorescent green color of the flora covering the animate bones, the skeletons seemed to vanish, fading in and out of visibility in the thick snowfall. My sonar isn’t working well either, the snow in the air absorbing sound waves making it hard to track anything. Even my mana sense is impaired the amount of the island's heavily aspected mana that filled the air.

Nothing moves other than my hand drawing up my hood, and then my mask. I move slowly, trying not to break whatever stalemate is holding everything still for the moment. I need the time to plan, I can’t fight from where I am. Without my extra and improved senses to help me keep track of everything around me, it would be too easy to swarm me under.

So, step one, get out of the encirclement. I don’t trust my ability to use my voice for this. I only just figured out how to do a sonic impactor, and I’m not really sure I can do it reliably enough or with enough power to punch a hole through the enemy positions. Telekinesis on the other hand is straight forward enough that even if I’m not sure of my precision, launching something heavy really hard is well within my abilities.

I pull the bow string in my mind back as far as I dare. Whatever I find to launch is going to have to make a corridor through the hostile bones big enough for me to escape through. I search my memory as I turn slowly in place, scanning my surroundings to find something suitable for use as a projectile, when I run out of time.

What I thought was a patch of solid bare rock, turns out to be something very different. Roots and vines explode out of the ground at my feet. The thin shell of rock crumbles away letting the hostile vegetation reach out to ensnare or impale me. I shriek in surprise, my voice not activating only because almost all of my free mana has already been handed over to my TK. TK that in my shock I lose my hold on. The mental bow string in that moment of inattention snaps forward, and everything in my vicinity is launched away from me forcefully.

The vines and roots that had already begun to coil around my legs, searching for a way through my armor, are shredded. The amount of kinetic energy I had accidentally dumped into my surroundings rips the greenery to pieces. The skeletons don’t get off freely either. Gravel and loose debris scythed through the first few ranks like a claymore has gone off, shattering and cracking the exposed bone. Then the wave of accelerated air strikes, and any of them still standing are knocked off their feet. The vines and roots not reduced to kindling are pushed out to the limit of their length and slammed into the ground.

That's... new...

I have only a moment to register what's happened, and I don’t take it. Acting entirely on instinct I pull the bowstring back again, and fling myself away from the center of what is now obviously a trap, and outside the skeletal encirclement. I don’t have the skill to catch myself with my TK so I simply take the impact, roll to disperse it and get myself back to my feet as quickly as possible.

The moment I have proper bracing I lunge back into the skeletal ranks. Sclamhaire goes through them like the proverbial hot knife, the energy animating the undead devoured eagerly like everything else she’d ever tasted. Mana rushes into me to replace what I’ve already used, and like that, the real battle begins.

Sclamhaire lives up to her name, and feeds me mana every time I fell a skeleton. Mana that I then spend like water. In my efforts to avoid getting surrounded again I adopt a tactic of running away from the bony mob and telekinetically pelting them with anything I can, until a small group separates from the rest. Once I have a manageable group isolated I spin on the ball of my foot, and charge back into the smaller mess of skeletons. Not only does this tactic make sure that I don’t get overwhelmed, but it gives me plenty of time to think.

Apparently the island is a genius loci. A phrase that in ancient Rome was used to describe the god or spirit of a specific area. More modernly it's used to describe a piece of land or a building that has gained sentience, some form of magical power, and the ability to manipulate anything considered a ‘part of itself’ for its own ends.

Which definition a late fifteen hundreds era Exorcist might have been using I have no idea.

I’m not sure it really matters in my current situation anyway. I’m pretty sure I can’t kill a god of any size, and I wouldn’t know how to even start going about killing an island. I suppose I could stab Sclamhaire into the ground and just let her work. But that’s only viable if it works quickly enough for me to survive without my weapon until the island dies. And that’s only an issue to worry about if there’s any possibility that the genius loci has a limited power supply. If there’s a ley line running under the island, or god forbid an intersection of several, then it effectively has an infinite power supply.

So what does...

I nearly trip over my own feet as another squad of skeletons pops unexpectedly around a corner nearly right on top of me.

God damn snow!

God damn ambient mana saturation!

It’s all I can do to turn my head and take the tines of a pitchfork, rusted just enough to guarantee tetanus, on my hood instead of my face. The only sound produced is a very soft ‘tink’ of metal gently tapping metal, my armor absorbing most of the impact. I sweep an arm up knocking the pitchfork out of the way, an arc of motion that’s quickly followed by Sclamhaire cutting the skeletal colonist in half. The pulse of mana I get from the animating force of that bone pile is sent directly into another omnidirectional telekinetic pulse blowing the surrounding enemies back. I leap after the ambushing force, Sclamhaire singing through air and bone with equal facility. I can’t even feel any jolt of impact from my wonderful sword, only the rush of mana indicates when she meets something that should have provided resistance.

This kind of fighting is heady and dangerous. These undead pose literally no threat to me as it turns out, my fears of being overwhelmed seeming to be unnecessary. I could stand, and just let them pound on my armor as much as they want, and all it would do is feed me mana. I don’t feel tired, or any form of fatigue. The constant in-rush of mana keeps me running on all cylinders. The entire experience leaves me feeling invincible.

Which is why it's dangerous.

Even as I move through the mooks like a fox in a hen house, I need to remind myself not to become complacent. My left hand shoots out to grab and crush the skull of a skeleton coming at me with a badly corroded knife, as Sclamhaire cleaves through three others. One with a half rotted scythe that it tries to put in the way. It accomplishes nothing.

Reinforcing my point about not being complacent, a deep resonant roar sounds over the colony. The skeletons around me don’t react, except to try and get at me harder. I’m not particularly interested in seeing what made that sound unless I have to.

Which means I can’t be tied down here any more, and I really need a few free moments to think. The easy solution is to just... not be here. My glamor wraps around me, and as far as the rest of the world is concerned, quite suddenly I’m not here.

Off pure muscle power I make the single story leap to the top of the building next to me. I have no idea what it used to be, and really it doesn’t matter. Continuing to not be here, I get a running start, and in a few moments I’ve made it to the other side of the colony. Roof hopping the whole way.

Far enough away from my starting point that I hope I won’t be immediately found, I drop my glamor and take a moment to try and figure things out. The first question, of course, is what my short term plan is. I don’t think I can kill an island. I’m not against trying, but I really don’t know where I would even start. Which means ‘winning’ this fight, in the classic sense, is off the table. So instead the priority becomes survival. My ride off this island is coming tomorrow evening. So that’s how long I have to survive. I really wish I knew how these skeletons worked though. It really makes no sense for a nature spirit like a genius loci to be using something like them. The vegetation growing on the skeletons clearly has something to do with what’s happening, but what is again beyond me. I guess it doesn't really matter as long as I can keep killing them as easily as I have been.

Absently I check my mana and...

Huh...

I have more mana than I should. I’m not an expert in judging how much mana I should expend vs how much I should get back for a given activity. I just don’t have the experience, but I know that what I have seemed like too much for how much I expended getting to my current hiding place.

Further backing up my feeling is the relatively small rush of mana I get from my armor, that I only notice now because I’m paying attention. How long has this been going on? A few moments later I get another surge of mana. Then another. After a few minutes of watching I find that the inexplicable bursts of mana are coming at fairly regular intervals. Though again from no source I can find. I can’t see, or hear, or even smell, anything hitting me when the extra mana comes. Which means it has to be coming from some non-physical source...

The wooden roof under me suddenly creaks and groans. I look down and swear. The wood I’m sitting on is rotting away as I watch. Mold grows through the substance of the wood in fast forward, the boards weakening. I barely have time to register this new way the island has to fuck me over, when the roof gives way and I’m sent plummeting back to the ground.

I hit with a crash that echoes through the colony, and moments later is answered by the deep resonant bellow I heard earlier. The rest of the single story house collapses on top of me.

The fall does more to me than the building landing on me does. My armor takes most of the fall, my troll bone handling the rest without more than a twinge, and all of the falling house. I’m still stunned enough from the impact rattling my brain that it takes a few minutes for me to realize I’m stuck. Nothing in the house is heavy enough to keep me pinned, but the way everything’s fallen on me I have no leverage to even begin trying to move.

A literal lifetime of meditation helps me keep my breathing even and my thinking calm. No matter how much I want to listen to the tiny voice in the back of my head that does nothing but scream. I’ve been ignoring that voice since I was eight. It’s not hard anymore.

My best bet for escaping is going to be my TK. It doesn’t need leverage, so it shouldn’t have any problems. Sure moving everything on top of me will take a lot of mana, but mana isn’t exactly in short supply around...

Something plows through the wooden debris around me shattering thick and heavy beams and turning them into splinters. It hits me, lifting me off the ground with the force of the impact, overwhelming my armor's absorption ability. For the first time since I got it, the metal of my armor actually matters. The Lady of the Lake does good work though. My armor plates flex just the right amount, shedding impact in the best possible way. Cloth that’s metal to the rest of the world deforms, and then falls back into place immediately.

I catch enough air time to actually process that I’m in the air, and acknowledge that landing is going to suck. Then I hit the ground, and I fucking hate it when I’m right. I roll several times, less in the controlled impact reducing fashion that I learned in gymnastics and perfected with parkour, and more in that fish just tossed onto the deck of the boat way.

I groan in pain, my eyes clenched shut, even if I can already feel all the bruises that I’ve acquired through my armor fading away. I want to take the time to wallow for a moment and let myself finish healing, but a heavy thud from right in front of me prompts me to open my eyes.

Right in front of me is a hoof the size of a dinner plate. Roots slither around it sinking into the ground as I watch. I groan again and, against my better judgement, I turn my gaze upward to get a look at what I’m beginning to think literally punted me out of the collapsed house. The hoof is connected to a collection of thick heavy bones that have never belonged to a human. They’re held together by richly colored green moss or mold. The combination of bone and moss create the illusion of a complete, thick limbed, green skinned being. Vines and roots thread through every part of the thing, seeming to take the place of muscles and tendons. The illusion and method of creating it continues all the way up the thing. It has two legs, a humanoid torso with broad shoulders. Instead of hands, it’s forearms end in thick, and very solid, looking clubs. It’s head, standing eight feet or so above me, is where the illusion of a living thing falls apart again. It’s head is an ox skull, bare of flesh and covered in only the thinnest patina of green. The skulls’ eye sockets though are filled with beads of dark green fire. I can feel huge amounts of mana pumping through its form as I meet it’s gaze.

We stare at each other for a moment, then it raises one of it’s club arms, and I frantically try to roll away. Which is the right choice as when the thing hits the ground a huge cloud of dust and other debris fly into the air leaving a small crater in the ground.

I pop to my feet, far enough away that it would have to lunge to reach me, and take Sclamhaire back into both hands. It stands, slowly turning it’s skull and glowing eye analogs in my direction, and I set myself in my stance, ready to fight. It opens its jaws, lets out the resonant bellow I’ve been hearing around the colony, and rushes me. What the hell, I let out my own roar and charged it back.

The sound I produce shouldn’t come from a human throat, and makes the air around us tremble. The undead minotaur thing staggers slightly as the sound hits it, it’s headlong rush stalled into several staggering steps. By the time it’s regained its footing, I’m already on it. It throws out a clumsy counter swing at my head, the motion of it’s arm almost like a hook. I smoothly slide my feet apart dropping into a lower, wider stance. The blow flies cleanly over my head, and I swing Sclamhaire into its leg just above it’s knee.

I fully expect Sclamhaire to act like it has with every other thing I’ve ever swung her at, and slide through vine muscle, and moss covered bone without even slowing down.

That isn’t what happens.

About six inches away from the thing Sclamhaire starts feeding me a truly spectacular amount of energy, and begins slowing down like I tried to swing a normal sword through sand. By the time Sclamhaire’s edge actually touches the undead monstrosity, the blade is barely moving at all, leaving no more than a scratch on the moss green bones. I’m so startled by Sclamhaire failing to bisect something for the first time, that I almost fail to see the artificial minotaur’s back hand coming for my head.

Almost.

A hurried jerk of my head backwards ensures that it’s club arm only clips my hood. Again hard enough for the cloth to deform slightly, but as before it shakes back to its normal position with a twitch from my head.

So what the hell is that? Another hop backwards puts me at a safer distance, and I glance down at Sclamhaire feeling just a bit betrayed. I don’t have time to really indulge the feeling though, because the island's mossy bone golem is charging me again.

I only just manage to sideslip, ducking under the things heavy club arm, and slash Sclamhaire across it’s leg bones again. This time I’m paying attention though. I can see an aura from around the thing’s leg the color of tarnished gold. The energy of the aura is so thick that even as Sclamhaire drinks it down, it still slows her enough that upon actually reaching the undead construct my swing has nearly no force behind it. Resulting in Sclamhaire barely being able to cause a scratch, no matter how sharp her edge is.

I fling myself away from my enemy to avoid any retaliatory swings, and end up narrowly avoiding more roots reaching out of the ground seeking to ensnare me. I roll to my feet and take a moment to check my surroundings. The snow means I have to work to keep track of the horde of less dangerous skeletons. Less dangerous in that they have little ability to do me direct harm. Enough of them though could probably keep me in place long enough for the minogolem to do some serious damage.

It looks like I’ve managed to find my way back to the central square of the colony. The crumbling well is just barely visible in front of me, and the skeletons arrive as if on cue, marching their way out of the snow in creepy silence. Behind me the thudding footsteps of the bone minotaur lets me keep track of the thing despite the snow falls' effect of rendering the majority of my senses barely functional.

Suddenly the tactic at work here makes sense. The skeletons aren’t really a physical threat to me, but there's more than enough of them to hold me down for a while.

It’s a tactic that’s probably worked on everybody who’s ever come here. It would probably work on me, if not for my staying power and TK. The skeletons are here to swarm me under, and hold me down while the larger bone construct actually does the damage.

A construct that’s right behind me.

I spin on the ball of my foot, Sclamhaire swatting the bone golem’s club arm to the side. At the same time the bow string in my head is pulled back as far as I can with no notice, and released. The construct is launched a few inches off the ground, before the roots that surround it’s hooves, and sink into the ground with every step it takes, snap taught and it’s pulled back to the ground.

Fucking hell!

What does it take to hurt this thing?

It swings its clubs down at me together, which I smoothly evade with a step backwards. When it’s arms hit the ground though it releases a pulse of the tarnished gold energy that seems to fuel it. The pulse strikes me like an oncoming bus, and even with my armor absorbing a lot of the impact I’m lifted off the ground and flung into the horde of skeletons.

I roll to my feet quickly, and lash out around me with Sclamhaire and my hands and feet, trying to clear a space around me to breathe. Sclamhaire cleaves through a skeleton here, a fist crushes a skull there. I even get a ‘This is Sparta’ moment on a skeleton when a push kick sends it backwards into the colony well. The sound of it’s bones echoing down the shaft shows that there’s an entire aquifer that used to be under the island that has run dry.

I only have a few moments though, as my friend the bone golem arrives in a charge with its resonant bellow filling the air. With the horde of skeletons around me I have no place to dodge except straight up, which is stupid if you can’t fly.

I really want my wings.

The bone club comes arching down at me, and with nowhere else to go I brace Sclamhaire’s blade with my off hand, and catch the swing on the flat of my blade. Mindful that only one of its arms is occupied, I pivot Sclamhaire under the club and step to it’s outside. The club I’m blocking slides past me to hit the ground, and it’s body blocks it’s other arm. It, of course, pivots to come after me, and I find myself right back where I started with the thing, dodging and blocking while trying to find some way through it’s aura to actually hurt it.

Only now I have the added bonus of the seemingly infinite number of skeletons crowding around me. Every single one of them is reaching and clawing, trying to get in my way and hinder me any way they can. If I stay in one place for more than a few seconds roots grass and vines erupt from the ground and try to wrap around me. With judicious use of TK I manage to stay ahead of all of them though. Nudges to the bone construct’s arms make evading it easier, even if it’s legs are seemingly immune to interference because of how well anchored they are.

The time I spend staying one step ahead of my bony dance partners isn’t entirely wasted. Now that I’m looking for it my mana sense is finding that tarnished gold energy everywhere. It glimmers inside the skeletons animating them, shines faintly in the plant life lending the growth speed and strength, and saturating the ground like water. Little bits of it are constantly being flung at me from every direction, which is what my armor has been absorbing for the extra mana I couldn’t account for.

Not that the information helps me very much at the moment.

Though it does give me an idea of how to deal with the golem.

I lunge backwards from the golem’s clubs, and watch them whistle past my face. As soon as they hit the ground I lunge forward, forcing myself through the pulse of energy enhancing their impact, and running up it’s arms before hopping lightly over its head. While in the air I spin to bring Sclamhaire down on the golem with the full force of my fall.

Once again Sclamhaire floods me with mana stolen from the golem’s protective aura, but fails to do any real damage to the bone construct. Which I’m not really expecting her to. Instead I watch carefully as the mana Sclamhaire stole from the thing is restored, trying as hard as I can to see how the power comes back.

As I more than half expected, with focus I can see the roots surrounding the golem’s hooves draw the tarnished gold component of the island’s mana from the ground and into the construct, restoring it’s protective aura. The golem’s return swing, which I really should have seen coming, takes me full in the chest. Already being full of mana from Sclamhaire’s work just moments ago my armor absorbs very little of the impact taking most of it on the armor itself. What little impact my armor did absorb is enough to immediately pop my burning wings from my back to vent the excess energy.

I’m lifted off the ground for the second time and flung for distance. I crash through the wall of one of the still standing buildings, and then thankfully another wall before I hit the ground with a crash. The last thing I need is another building to fall on me. My armor finishes venting the small amount of excess energy it had absorbed before I hit the ground, my armor’s wings collapsing into my back plate in the air.

Note to self, work on being able to view mana in detail while still being aware of everything around me.

My everything hurts. I’m pretty sure that I’m covered in bruises, some of which must reach bone. Bruises that are already fading, fortunately. If it had hit me just a little bit higher I’d probably have a broken nose even through my hood and mask. I’m still smiling though. Even though I took one hell of a hit for it I still finally have an idea of how to kill this thing.

Or at least get rid of it.

In Greek myth Heracles fought a giant, who’s name I can’t remember right now, who he couldn’t harm or even overpower. The giant explained that he was a son of Gaia, the earth. Because of that, Gaia protected him and he gained strength and healed faster than he could be injured as long as he touched the ground, rendering him functionally immortal. The utter stupidity of explaining your powers to an enemy aside, Heracles' solution was to pick the giant up and squeeze him to death before hanging the corpse on a tree so that the giant never touched the ground.

My problem is basically the same, and while I can’t pick the golem up and crush it in a bear hug, maybe I can do something similar. The only issue is it’s too well anchored for my TK to overcome.

At least while standing still.

I noticed that every time it takes a step it has to reroot itself. Meaning in mid-stride at least one leg isn’t holding it to the ground. In a charge, which it had done several times, there will be moments where it won’t be touching the ground at all. The golem’s resonant roar, and subsequent thudding sound that I could hear even through the muffling effect of the snow, tells me that I might just be about to get my chance. The timing will have to be precise, but I can’t think of any other realistic options for victory here.

I push myself to my feet with a groan. I never would have thought that I’d consider troll healing too slow, but right now it seems to be taking forever. I move away from the building I’ve been thrown through, stiffly at first but loosening up as I move and my regeneration does its work.

To pull this off I need to see the thing coming at a fair distance away to have any chance at the timing. At the same time holding still just invites the island to try and cocoon me in roots and vines, which doesn’t sound like much fun. Not to mention I just don’t want to be laying where it expects me to be when it catches up. That very much sounds like giving it a free shot.

Which it does not need.

I clearly made the right move as moments later the building collapses as the minotaur golem crashes through the wall I’ve just been through myself. It takes a moment for the bulls skull eye sockets, with their burning green light to lock onto me, then it charges again.

I move Sclamhaire into a basic guard position in between me and the onrushing mass of bone and plant life, just in case. Otherwise I hold my ground, watching it’s stride and pulling back my bow string. I pull the string back further and further, packing as much mana as I possibly can into what will no doubt be my greatest exercise of raw telekinetic power to date.

I have only seconds to catch the rhythm of its stride. Closer than I probably should have let it get, I let go of the string. Right as it’s back hoof comes off the ground, but before it’s forward hoof lands, the roots of both just barely touching the ground, it abruptly changes course upwards. The mana rushing out of me leaves me feeling faint, and I drop to one knee as the bone golem soars upwards in a parabolic arc that will hopefully see it land somewhere in the sea, far from the island. Hopefully it will run out of power long before it can find its way back into the Genius Loci’s sphere of influence.

Even if it doesn’t though, I’m hoping that getting back will still take long enough that it won’t be an issue. Sclamhaire plants into the ground, and she once again lives up to her name, devouring the tarnished gold energy that floods through the island, rapidly refilling my network with life energy. I have no idea how long I have to keep fighting, and even though I can last far longer than most, I still doubt that I can last forever.

Thanks to Sclamhaire, my network rapidly reaches capacity and stretches just that little bit further I like to feel when I feed. I pull her free of the island before I overfill by too much, and come back to my feet. The bruises from the first golem have vanished with the influx of mana, any feeling of physical exhaustion washed away with them.

At the moment I’m hoping that I wasn’t attacked until sundown because for some reason daylight interferes with whatever power the island is using for all of this. That way I only have to keep fighting until dawn, and then get off the island before sundown again.

If I’m wrong... I’m not really sure what I’ll do. Which isn’t a good thing, but not something I’m going to worry about until it becomes an issue.

From opposite sides of the colony, two more roars like the one the bone golem made sound out across the island. From the still falling snow the skeletal horde emerges, having finally caught up with me, and the island's botanical minions are no doubt not far behind.

Clearly even if I’m right this is going to be a looooong night.


	36. Book 1 - Excalibur Blessing

This... is not going well.

I have no idea how long I’ve been fighting at this point, feels like forever. The skeletons are never ending, I’m beginning to suspect that the ones I destroy just get back up when I’m not looking. There were only a couple hundred people living in the colony, and I have to have destroyed at least that many skeletons by now. The plants are taking less and less time to start trying to ensnare me. I think at first the island had to burrow roots underground to wherever I was standing to try and get me. Now though, most of the colony has been covered, so no matter where I am if I hold still for more than a few moments I’m fighting off overly friendly plants too.

And the golems...

The boneitaurs keep increasing in number. Every time I manage to get rid of one, two more pop up. It’s a little like what I imagine fighting a hydra must be like, only there’s no easy solution like fire to keep it from happening.

There’s five of the damn things running around now.

Part of me is proud that I’ve managed to remove four of them.

Most of me wishes that I’d just kept evading the first one so I wouldn't have so many problems now.

I slip around the thrust of one golem, duck under the bladed arms of a second and slide between the legs of a third. Popping to my feet again I take off running, trying to place my feet at least a little unpredictably so the island can’t anticipate where to start grabbing with plants before I arrive. That had happened once, while I may not be a Japanese school girl it still wasn’t something I ever want to experience again.

Behind me the three piles of animate plant and bone I’ve managed to avoid turn to follow me. I’ve got a little bit of time before they can line themselves up for a charge. Outside of charging they don’t move too quickly. The island tried a more nimble construct, something designed to keep up with my acrobatic self, once. The thing was in the air way too much and I managed to launch it off the island almost immediately. Since then every single bone pile that’s come after me has been large, tough, and fast, only in a straight line.

Like the two remaining golems maneuvering to cut off my escape from the other three. One is stomping towards me from straight ahead, the other is moving at a charge to intercept where I’ll be if I don’t slow down or deviate course.

If I do neither, the two of them should reach me at about the same time.

I do neither.

Just as the charging bone construct is about to hit me I pluck my mental bow string shooting myself forward just a little bit faster than I had been moving. The sudden acceleration combined with a quick spin let the rushing minothing blow right past me without slowing down.

Using the inertia of my spin, Sclamhaire swats the second golem’s arms aside, letting them slide past me into the ground. I slide my front foot forward, cocking my arm back and pivoting Sclamhaire, using the bone monster’s arm as the fulcrum, until Sclamhaire’s point is lined up with the center of it’s chest.

Using my entire body I thrust my sword forward. Sclamhaire sinks into the thickest part of the thing’s aura, devouring it and slowing at the same time. Until she finally stops with her point just resting against the plate of bone and vine that makes up the monster's torso. The moment my sword touches bone I yank my mental bowstring back and release it with the same thought. Sclamhaire launches out of my loosened grip and now, already through the protective aura, punches straight through the golem’s chest.

Sclamhaire destroys the golem, consuming it’s animating energies just like it’s one of the lesser skeletons. The flash of light and heat from Sclamhaire’s pommel gem burns away the vegetation that rise from the ground to grab me. An omnidirectional pulse of TK scatters the remains of the golem far and wide to keep the island from putting it back together easily.

Two more resonant roars sound out across the colony from opposite sides. A cry which is quickly answered by the four constructs still here.

For a moment the battle pauses again as I trudge to reclaim Sclamhaire from where she stands, proud and upright in the ground, her pommel gem shining like a beacon from the island's mana. I use the quiet moment to savor the heat she produces, and for a moment I can escape the cold of the island’s snow storm. The constructs stomp their way into something like a firing arc, presumably so they can charge at me without having to worry about hitting each other.

I’d gotten a pair of them to do that earlier.

It had been hilarious to watch, though not overly damaging to the necromantic abominations.

With a groan I pick Sclamhaire up, and lay her flat across my shoulder. I’m exhausted. My physical endurance may for all practical purposes be infinite while in battle, but my mental endurance isn’t. I have no idea how long I’ve been fighting these things, but it seems like forever, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep it up. It’s getting harder to focus, my mind wandering and I’m losing moments when I’m not in combat. Finding myself fighting in new places around the colony and not being entirely sure how I got there.

No choice but to keep going though.

I turn to face the enemy, and let out a short shriek as light blasts into my face. I can’t help but flinch backwards, throwing up an arm to cover my eyes. Knowing even as I do, that I just fell for this new trap the island has come up with, and I’d be smashed into the ground like a tent peg any moment now.

Any moment now...

...

I crack an eye to look around and find the island covered in heatless bronze and brass colored flame.

###

The sun came up while I wasn’t paying attention, and everywhere the sunlight touches the tarnished gold mana burns. The storm clouds vanish like flash paper held over a candle. The skeletons ignite, physically unharmed even as the animating mana is scoured away by dawn’s light. The bone golems last somewhat longer with more mana supporting them. What's burned away is replaced fast enough to keep the golems going for a little while longer. They stagger towards me, bone and vine sloughing off of them as they try desperately to reach me before they come apart completely, finally not having the mana to hold themselves together. The forests have flames running through them like somebody started a forest fire. Which I suppose in a way somebody had.

Minutes after the sun rose, the process the pure sunlight started, finishes. Everything that the light could touch forcefully returned to a more natural mana balance. Which isn’t to say that the Genius Loci is defeated. Anywhere the sunlight can’t reach is still saturated with the tarnished gold mana.

Cautiously I use the toe of my boot to scrape a shallow hole in the ground, just moving aside some surface layers. I’m rewarded with a brief puff of copper fire as mana saturated ground is exposed to sunlight. Slowly I turn in a circle taking in my surroundings. Everything hasn’t quite gone back to normal. Some of the skeletal mob that had been chasing me all night has survived by hiding in the shadows of the colony buildings, but it's clearly a temporary reprieve. More importantly, they can’t get to me as long as I stay fully in the sunlight. Everything else is still creepy, but only in the normal ghost town sort of way that it had been when I’d first arrived the day before.

Certain that there’s nothing out here that’s going to attack me, my legs fold underneath me dropping me onto my ass in the dirt. A moment later I give up entirely, flopping onto my back with an audible and long groan.

I’m so tired.

Even if I can’t physically get exhausted, my brain so wants a nap. I can’t though. Even if I fall asleep in direct sunlight I wouldn’t put it past the island to grow something up through my back.

I’m so very tempted to just rest my eyes for a bit. But after the longest battle of my life there’s no way I’m going to stay conscious if I do. Or if I stay laying here for too much longer.

So I’ll just take a moment.

Catch my breath.

A yawn big enough to make my jaw pop tells me that if I don’t get moving soon... I won’t...

###

I wake up with the sun high overhead, and spearing into my eyes. With a groan I pull myself to my feet. The aches I can feel rapidly fading are highly instructive as to why one really shouldn’t sleep in armor.

I really need to figure out that soul storage thing.

Though I’m betting that falling asleep in my armor is the only thing that kept the island from getting me during my unwilling nap. Though I see no signs of it having tried which confuses the hell out of me.

Climbing to my feet I stretch myself out, letting the last few twinges fade away while also trying to ignore the very different ache in my middle.

God damn I’m hungry.

I don’t have much hope of finding anything, but I head over to my poor unused campsite to see if anything edible survived. It actually takes a few minutes to figure out where I’d set up, so much of the colony’s topography has changed during the night. Buildings have collapsed, new hills have appeared. Trees have fallen and other plants have achieved full growth. My campsite when I find it has actually become a full blown pond.

From what I can see, one complete with fish.

I have no idea how or why, but those are definitely freshwater fish of a sort I wouldn’t be surprised to find native to the region.

...

I narrow my eyes at the pond and after a moment a snap of my TK launches one of the fish out of the water and into my hand. A quick smack against my armored skirt kills it quickly, and I look to getting a few more. I don’t know what the island was thinking putting these here, maybe it thought I’d be dead already, but I’m starving and not about to look a gift fish in the mouth. So a few moments later I have two more fish.

I like to imagine that I can feel the island glaring at me.

This is revenge for my campsite ya geological jackass!

###

I know next to nothing about cooking over a campfire, but fish aren’t hard. Just gut them and keep them over the coals until the skin starts to peel. The fire itself is started by a lighter that I manage to recover and restore enough to light.

At least once.

It takes me a couple of hours to light, cook, and eat everything, but afterwards I’m feeling much better about the world. More importantly I’m ready to get back to work. I’ve lost most of the day between the nap brought on by a night of constant high stress and the subsequent adrenaline crash, and the meal.

Now though I’m fed, rested, and have the time to actually figure some things out.

I feel pretty certain that the Excalibur fragment is still on the island. The Exorcist that brought it here certainly didn’t leave with it, and supposedly nobody else that has ever made it to the island has ever left. So they certainly didn’t take it.

Then there’s the mana the island uses.

Gold is typically the color of holy power, as demonstrated by the angel feather that Mia had gotten her talons on somehow. So the tarnished gold to me implies that the mana I’m seeing is holy power, just... corrupted somehow. As weird as that idea is from the perspective of mana. Definitely not balanced properly any more at the very least.

In any case, a Genius Loci, especially one that has nobody living on it and with a reputation like Roanoke, shouldn't have access to holy mana. Which if I remember correctly is produced from the worship or concentrated belief of mortals. It seems like most of the locals try to think about the island as little as possible. Genius Loci should be using mana in its most ‘raw’ state. The way it occurs naturally for lack of a better term.

The only way I can think off the top of my head, and it might very well be wishful thinking, that the state I see here could come about, is if there’s something to act as a converter of sorts. Something to turn raw mana into what I’m seeing. That and the tarnished gold mana reminds me a lot of the feeling I got off the fallen angel feather Mia got me.

So somewhere on this island is a sword pumping out corrupted holy magic that the island is then using to do things like animate the dead.

I just have to find it.

Which fortunately, I think I have an easy way to do.

###

The hardest part is finding a place to draw the script.

Bone chalk is easy.

Well, it’s not really chalk, but bone dust works just as well. There’s a certain cathartic, visceral satisfaction in the process of collecting the bones of the skeletons that hounded me all night, and grinding them into powder. With my strength reducing them to dust isn’t hard. Containing the dust is a bit trickier, but the cloth from my ruined tent will still work just fine for this. Fishing it out of the pond is a little tricky, but some quick work with my athame gets me a piece big enough for my purposes.

But a place to draw the script is harder.

Anyplace outside is covered in grass or other plant life. The houses are crooked, anything but level, and after last night's fun anything but structurally sound. I’m honestly shocked that any part of them is still standing. Not to mention that if I try anything inside of one of them there’s too much of a chance that I’ll end up too close to somewhere the sun hasn’t reached and, the island will take a pot shot at me.

No, I'll need something else.

My eye drifts back to my carefully constructed campfire. I had cleared the dry grass that covers most of the interior of the colony away from the circle of stones stolen from the colony well for my fire. I made very sure that I’d done everything necessary to keep the fire from spreading because the colony is a tinderbox.

On the other hand... how much do I care if I hurt the island?

I mean at this point?

###

For the second time in a single day the island burns.

This time, instead of the metaphysical flames produced by the purging of corrupted power, these are far more literal flames. Pale yellow fire spreads the way only a grass fire can. Hot and quick, they rush through the colony leaving black ash in their wake. My armor provides excellent protection against the hot fast flames, as intense as they are, for the brief time I’m standing in the fire.

What it does a poorer job of protecting me from is the smoke.

The hacking cough I develop within minutes is wet and nasty as my body desperately tries to expel the smoke particulate. Globs of black phlegm come out of my mouth as I hunch over, staying as low to the ground as I can trying to find clear air.

This is not one of my better ideas.

Behind me I can hear the already compromised frames of the wooden buildings begin to collapse as they catch and burn. Those piles of ancient wood will burn for a while, the grass fire though has almost run its course. Or it’s at least far enough away from me to no longer interfere with what I need to do.

Still coughing I lean over the lip of the well to retrieve the square of tent fabric that I stashed there to keep it safe from my brilliant plan.

Okay, to be fair to myself, my plan did exactly what it needed to. The area around the well in the center of the colony is free of grass and largely level. As perfect a work space as I can hope to find out here. I just underestimated how bad the smoke would be. I thought that in the wide open area of the colony square with nothing to contain it, the smoke wouldn’t be a problem.

I also overestimated how effective my regeneration would be in this circumstance. Troll healing is unrivaled in the realm of natural healing when it comes to trauma. For foreign contaminants not accompanied by a wound? It’s not nearly as good, as it turns out.

Still, with the way things have worked out, I can still do what I need to.

I pace out the space I’ll need with a little extra just to be on the safe side. Then carefully arranging the cloth I start drawing out my pressure Script like one would frost a cake. I just have to go slowly so my constant coughing doesn't make me miss drawing something.

Who knows what could go wrong if I scrawl where I should scribble because I can’t clear the gunk out of my lungs.

I really hope that Pua has an easy fix for smoke inhalation.

###

It takes me a couple of hours to lay out the Script. I go slow and take my time, since not only am I using an unfamiliar medium, but correcting any mistakes I make will be the next thing to impossible. My persistent cough makes mistakes far too likely if I give Murphy any chance at all.

Still, by the end of my careful shaking bone dust off my folded cloth and into the right symbols for several hours, I’m left with an aching back from bending over and a Script that I’m certain enough of to use. A careful hop takes me to the center of the circle where I settle in and try to take a deep breath to start singing the Script to life.

I nearly hack up a lung when I fail at breathing.

It takes me far too much effort and trial and error to learn how to time my coughing fits to places in the Script story where they won't cause problems. Finally though I manage to get the Script to flare to life, drawing in the ambient mana in the area and compressing it to the point that I can simply let it in.

My senses expand explosively, their range increasing to cover almost the entire island and their resolution improving to the point that I can track every eddy and current of how the island cycles its power through the earth. For a few minutes I just take it in, reveling in being so connected to everything. I can’t indulge for long though, I wasn’t exactly low on mana when the fight ended. It won't take me long to fill up again, so I only have till then to find what I’m looking for.

So I narrow my focus from just taking in everything, to looking for the largest beacon of power I can sense.

The first thing I find is a deep thrumming pulse far below me. A powerful torrent of naturally balanced mana that passes directly under the center of the island. A ley line, a rushing river of the planet’s life energy. An example of my own mana network writ large.

There’s probably something profound I could take from that, but philosophy isn’t really my strong suit and I don’t have the time.

Following the ley line though, I find something that feels like nothing so much as a reverse waterfall. A narrow thread of mana, compared to the ley line, pulled upwards into the island's sphere of influence. Below me, though not nearly as deep as the ley line, I can feel the ley line mana meet something else. A pulsing, off balance beacon that takes in natural mana and pumps out vast amounts of tarnished gold power.

That’s what I’m looking for!

Now where is it, and how do I get there?

From what I can feel it’s off to my left, which would mean somewhere deeper inland on the island. Also it’s below me, which is a problem. Clearly there’s some way to access whatever cave or pit the island has stashed the Excalibur in. The island had to get it down there in the first place somehow. The question is where is the entrance...?

I open my eyes and turn, coughing a couple of times, to look at the colony well.

I had kicked a skeleton down there in the chaos of last night’s battle. I can sort of recall hearing enough echos to indicate a fairly large cave system as the skeleton clattered off the walls of the well. I can't recall any details of how big it is, or how the cave system is laid out. I was more than a little distracted by the ongoing grand meleem and fighting for my life to really commit an incidental like that to my memory.

My network begins to ache, and I hurriedly shut the pressure Script down.

Carefully I climb to my feet and head over to the well, deliberately scuffing my feet through the parts of the Script which are my inventions, and as far as I know, still secret. Reaching the well, I lean against the partially collapsed wall and try not to hack my lungs out. Once I get my breathing back under control, I take one of the larger loose stones from the well and drop it down the shaft.

Listening carefully, I try to get information from the sound of stone bouncing off stone. Which turns out to not be a lot. I’m not an expert in sound, but something about the specific noise of the rock knocking into other rocks doesn’t create echos that carry very well.

I try to sigh, but instead cough a couple more times.

At least that seems to be getting better.

I manage a deep enough breath to let out a shriek at the highest note I can hear straight down the well. I figure bats must use incredibly high pitched sounds for a reason. Given I stole my hearing from one, if it worked for them it’d work for me.

The sound does work remarkably well.

I don’t get enough information back to get a clear map of the cave system. I do get enough to know that it extends more than far enough to reach where I felt the potential Excalishard. I’m willing to bet that the cave system used to be a cistern, given that it has a well connected to it. Probably dried up either because of the native shamans directly, or indirectly by way of the Genius Loci. They were trying to get the colonists to go away after all. A lack of water will tend to do that.

I look down the well again and groan. Am I really going to do this?

Climb inside a Genius Loci that would really like to kill me? Where I’m surrounded by its power and there’s no hope of a timely save by sunlight?

I cough again.

Yeah, yeah I am.

God dammit.

Cough.

###

I may be about to literally jump into the belly of the beast, but that doesn’t mean I have to be stupid about it. I really would like to have all sorts of spelunking equipment and an expert in cave exploring with me going down there, but that’s not going to happen. I‘m pretty much stuck with what I’ve got on me, and my own powers.

Which still provides me with, if not an ideal answer, an answer nonetheless.

When I vault over the edge of the well and plummet a rather impressive distance straight down before landing, I make no sound on impact. Because I’m not here. My invisibility to date has been perfect, except for one instance when the Lady of the Lake spotted me, but Vivain doesn’t count. So I’m counting on it working on whatever sense a sentient island uses as well as it’s worked on everything else.

Still it’s not something I can keep up for too long, burns through mana too quickly. So I keep Sclamhaire unsheathed and in my hand for supplemental mana. I carefully don’t let her touch the walls or floor of the cave, afraid that the island will notice the mana being stolen. There’s more than enough power in the air though, that I get a fairly steady stream both from Sclamhaire and my armor.

I still use up mana faster than I gain it, but I have hours now instead of minutes.

Sight becomes worthless as a sense almost immediately as I venture away from the well and into the cave system. My mana senses are also once again saturated into near uselessness. My hearing works perfectly though. I may not be able to map out an entire cave system in one go from one end of it, but I can get a remarkably clear image of my immediate surroundings. I can also spot which turns lead to dead ends pretty much without effort, so my progress is relatively quick.

The stone walls sound rough, the echos off of them sounding fuzzy for lack of a better term. The walls narrow and widen without warning, though most of the time I’m able to walk upright, even if I have to turn sideways. Both stalactites and stalagmites are common features that fill any larger cavern, of which there are more than a few. While the cistern may be dry for human purposes, it really isn’t anything like actually dry. Water rolls down the walls and drips from the ceiling into shallow pools. Each of these spots is almost like a shaft of light to my sonar. Regular predictable noise coming often enough to make my image of the areas where they appear far clearer than the rest of the caves. I even find myself acting like they’re light, I tend to gravitate towards these areas and I’m reluctant to leave. It’s difficult to make myself return to the ‘darkness’ of the quieter caves and tunnels in a way that actual darkness hasn’t made me act in a while. Every so often I’ll hear a chirp or something scrape along the walls. Cave fauna, crickets and spiders that have evolved in the darkness move about, scattering and hiding from any unexpected sound the way their surface cousins would flee from a turned on light. None of them seem to have been altered in any way by the island though, and I’ve seen no signs of giant fantasy spiders...

That’s a thought I actually managed to avoid having until right this moment. Thank you brain, I didn’t need that sleep I was planning to have ever again.

Not that spiders bother me any more than any other kind of bug, but something about facing down a giant one in complete darkness freaks me out a little more than just a giant spider. The close confines of the caves which would limit my high mobility fighting style don’t help either.

Still no sign of giant spiders.

No point in worrying about them.

I cough, check my mana levels, and push on.

###

Time and I have been having an acrimonious relationship recently, as I once again have no idea how much of it has passed. I know it hasn’t been days or weeks or anything, but hours could still be a problem. I really don’t want to have to fight through everything Roanoke has at its disposal again if the sun’s gone down up top. I have no way of knowing though.

Fortunately, I seem to be coming to the end of my trip. Or at least the halfway point.

I come out of a narrow crevice that I manage to only just fit through. My armor scrapes against the stone silently thanks to my glamor. Glamor that I almost lose three or four times moving through that crack in the stone.

Really pushing oneself through the crevasse is more than enough to give anybody sane, claustrophobia.

I wonder what it says about me that the idea of going back through it to get out doesn’t bother me?

The chamber I enter into is the first sign I’ve seen of something that is obviously deliberately made by the island since it became conscious. I don’t really count the bone golems top side, those were soldiers thrown together at need.

This is a permanent structure.

The chamber is an almost perfect sphere. The walls are still rough, nothing has been polished, but I bet one could still measure pi to a remarkable number of decimals off this place. The idea of a sphere falls apart at the center of the room. And this is a room, far too deliberate to be a cave. From the top and bottom of the sphere extend two narrow needles of stone. The stalactite and stalagmite meet in what I’m betting is the exact center of the sphere. Between them a blazing beacon of tarnished gold is suspended. The thing is pumping out so much power that it really ought to be producing visible light. Why it’s not, I have no...

...

I open my eyes, having closed them at some point in the absolute darkness of the caves without noticing, and find that it is in fact shedding visible light. A harsh, sickly-golden glow pours forth from the center of the room illuminating everything quite well. The stone of the room has become the same wrong gold color of the power, having been soaked in it for centuries by now. The stalactite and stalagmite might actually be gold from the color of them. What really draws the eye though is the beacon.

The sword.

What the Excalibur looked like when it was made I have no idea, but I doubt it was like this. The blade is warped and twisted, the metal having bubbled in some places and the entire thing is streaked with black. The hilt is covered by a thin shell of stone, mini stalactites fall from the cross guard which seems to droop, the accumulated effect like melted wax.

The entire thing is warped and damaged in a way that I can’t even begin to explain.

Fortunately, I don’t have to!

Carefully, I make my way around the sphere until the Excalibur is between me and the exit. I make sure that Sclamhaire is secure in her scabbard and that my athame is unlikely to escape its sheath. Then I get a running start, and with a telekinetic boost basically tackle the Excalibit, ripping it free of the stone pillar it had been a part of for the last few centuries.

My glamor is broken, but that hardly matters now. There’s no way the island could have missed me stealing it’s holy sword.

I hit the ground and roll to my feet smoothly, and break into a run for the exit as quick as I can. Which turns out to be the right choice. As soon as I break the sword free, the room begins to shake. First dust, then pebbles, and soon enough I have no doubt larger stones, start falling from the ceiling.

I fling myself into the crevice that leads into the sphere chamber with a recklessness that would have seen me injured if not for my armor. That claustrophobia that I didn’t have is showing up now, as I can feel the stone my chest is pressed against start to tremble and inch closer. Deep inside the stone I can hear rock cracking and breaking as something, I’m betting roots, slither through them, breaking up the formerly solid stone, making it shift to my detriment.

At first I think the crevice getting narrower is just my imagination. Then the amount of mana my armor is feeding me begins to slowly increase. By the time I reach the other end of the narrow passage it’s gotten so tight that it actually grips my armor, holding half of me in place as the pressure continues to build.

I’m only saved by an instinctive snap of TK popping me free of the stone like a champagne cork. I hit the ground hard, scramble back to my feet and take off running as best I can in the pitch black. The floor is trembling, making footing unpredictable, and the now constant rain of pebbles and larger stones means my sonar again has too much in the air to be clear. Not to mention what the dust is doing to my cough.

I dodge around larger falling stones as I retrace my steps back to the well. That might have been a problem, except that in this environment I can actually sort of follow my own scent trail. With it being the only trail here, and not needing to figure out how it ages everything is simpler. Only one passage will ever have my scent in it, and that’s the direction I need to go.

After only a few moments wooden spears start erupting out of the stone both above and below me. Each of them weakening the structural integrity of the cave system. Something which seems to be getting weaker and weaker from moment to moment anyway.

I dive forward, only just beating a falling boulder to the entrance to a tunnel I need to go down. I start to my feet only to get punched in the back by something that slams me flat against the tunnel floor. Half panicking I swing the sword at the spear I can hear emerging from the roof and keeping my pinned to the ground, trying to force its way through my back plate with brute force.

It’s only after my wild swing has made contact that I remember that Sclamhaire is safely sheathed on my back, the sword in my hand is the Excalibur. The holy blade strikes the wood and a scream fills the air. The wood rots and twists on itself as though diseased. I don’t wait to make sense of what the supposed Excalibur Blessing just did, and instead scramble back to my feet and resume running for my life.

Tunnels collapse behind me as I run through them. Larger caves shed boulders and stones like rain as I cross them. Anywhere neither of those things happen, and increasingly even where they do as I approach the exit, wooden spears jab free of the stone at every angle and roots reach out to grab me once again.

The omnidirectional telekinetic pulse is quite possibly the best technique ever. It pushes angry plants and large rocks away from me with equal facility. It’s also the only way I make it through the last large chamber. Boulders are shifted just out of the way, and smaller rocks are flung far and wide from my frantic and nearly continuous pulses. Just ahead of me is the last tunnel before I reach the well...

I nearly pause but don’t have the time. Crisscrossing the tunnel to the well, which I barely fit through upright the first time, are now dozens of wooden spears. Spears emerge from the stone and vanish into the opposite side of the tunnel, forming a latticework of thick mana enhanced wooden beams blocking the length of the tunnel. If I had the time I could maneuver through them like a Hollywood thief dancing through a laser grid.

Note to self, I have fantastic body control and I’m remarkably flexible for having troll joints. See if I can dance through a laser grid.

Second note to self, find something to murder to fix my flexibility issues.

I don't have time though, and so instead, pull my mental bowstring way, way back, and then let it go, launching myself down the tunnel at a truly stupid rate of speed. My armor lives up to my vague subconscious hopes, and protects me as the wooden beams explode into splinters and wood chips one after another as I blow through them like a living cannonball. I’m sure I take some damage during the trip. But the mana absorbed from the impacts is hopefully more than enough for my regeneration to ensure the injuries I don’t have time to notice won't impede me all that much.

I hit the wall of the well hard enough to crack the stone. Before I can even begin falling, I again telekinetically launch myself, this time straight up. Or mostly straight. I pop out of the well like a ping pong ball out of an air cannon. I get high enough into the air to see the coast, and hang long enough to note that the sun is low in the sky, before plummeting back to the ground, fortunately not back down the well, with a significant thud.

The impact drives the air violently out of my lungs. Which in turn set loose all the coughing that I managed to suppress while fleeing for my life underground. I cough, and choke, and hack up a truly disgusting few wads of black gunk. Once again I’d love to lay here and wallow, but my lot in life seems to be to keep going even when anybody sane would call it a day.

My armor almost seems to warm slightly as I harden my resolve, and I slowly drag myself to my feet. The island I’m on is still trying to kill me, and now I think I might have made it personal. The Excalibur in my hand looks even worse in daylight. The black streaks marring the twisted and mangled blade look almost greasy, and very much like something I’d never want to touch. No matter how long the pole. The partially melted hilt feels almost spongy, and I’m so glad that my gauntlets are full coverage so I don’t accidentally touch it.

Still coughing, I stagger my way towards the dock. The ground shaking under me more than convincing me that daylight or not, I don’t want to be on this island any longer than I have to be. Never mind if the sun actually goes down. I doubt I’d survive in my current state.

I manage to make it out of the colony palisade quickly enough, behind me the remaining wreckage still burning merrily. Fortunately it seems that the fire hadn’t spread past the palisade. Which doesn’t surprise me overly much, as the rest of the island couldn’t be more different from the dry and dead state of the colony itself. A fast fire like the grass fire I set off in the colony wouldn’t last long enough to really catch the rest of the far more lush greenery ablaze.

The problem of course, is that the island can use those still living plants to try and do me in.

Which it does. I stagger down the path to the docks, the faint tugging that I felt on my way to the colony has been replaced with blatant grasping. Still coughing, I skip to the side to avoid a falling tree branch, and then have to dive forward to avoid a falling tree. Vines attempt to trip me, bushes try to worm their way through the theoretical seams of my armor.

Through all of this the ground continues to shake with increasing violence. The ground cracks and parts of the path almost crumble out from underneath me. Only frantic and reflexive use of TK keeps me from falling back into the collapsing caverns.

I hit the ground again, really need to either stop doing this or figure out how to land, and tumble for several feet before the sound of what I’m rolling over changes. The sound of hard packed dirt replaced with the sound of rotting wood.

With a grunt I manage to lift my head, and see the sea before me. The wind shifts and the scent of salt water hits me in the face like a mallet. The gentle lap of waves also provided a rather odd subtle counterpoint to the continued rumbling of the shaking island.

The old fishing ship in the distance though, is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

With a grunt I haul myself to my feet one last time, coughing all the way. Breathing as well as I can, I break into a run. The docks had already begun to collapse when I arrived, they barely held my weight now. Still sticking to one edge, and trying to only step on support beams, I manage to make it to the end of the wooden pier, and leap as hard and as far as I can.

I can jump almost two stories straight up. I have no idea how far that translates to horizontally, but it wouldn’t be anywhere nearly far enough to get me to the fishing boat. Which is why at the apex of my jump I telekinetically launch myself again as hard as I can. The acceleration is less than comfortable, something that had gotten lost in the adrenaline rush of the previous few days until now.

Still, if this is what flying is going to be like when I get my wings, I can’t wait. The wing rushes past me, almost relaxing, the way white noise can be. The view is also spectacular, the sun just beginning to approach the horizon clouds beginning to bleed to orange and pink. The sounds of sea birds wondering what I’m doing up here with them, and in the distance I like to imagine that I can hear Roanoke shrieking in frustration at my escape.

I’m getting closer to the fishing boat, and beginning to descend. A process far less pleasant than ascending or the moment of hang time at the top. Still I’m in line with the fishing boat and should...

I’m still too high.

I’m going to miss the boat, aren’t I?

I over shoot the boat by a good thirty to forty feet, and hit the ocean like a cannonball. The cold water is actually almost pleasant for a moment. Then it decidedly isn’t. I frantically roll onto my back as I bob to the surface, thankful again that for me, my armor has no weight. I ache everywhere, though that might just be in my head. I certainly feel like I’ve been through the wringer.

I float there and stare at the slowly darkening sky, clutching the Excalibur in one hand. If I lose it by dropping it after all I’d been through to recover it, I’d never let myself live it down. Never mind anybody else.

After a few minutes the fishing boat pulls up next to me and the face of the old fisherman leans over the side to look down at me, “Ya all right there miss?” I just groan at him, to which he nods, “Believe the stories about the island now?” I cough and glare. I never disbelieved the stories about the island, I just thought I could handle it. Given I’m here and alive with the Excalibur, clearly I was right, “Need a hand there?”

“Or something.” I croak out.

He nods again, “I’ll get the boat hook then.”

Wait... What?


	37. Book 1 - A Pause for Breath

“I am victorious!” I crow, throwing wide the door of Pua’s designated teleportation arrival room, before dissolving into a bout of rough coughing. I lean against the wall opposite the door I just came through, still clutching the corrupted Excalibur in my left hand, my hood thrown back and my mask down.

From downstairs I can hear the sound of several people running for the stairs and moments later Pua and Ku appear at the top of the stairs, Thea hovering a little ways behind them. I smile and wave at them with my free hand, then cough again, which earns me a frown from Pua.

“What have you done to yourself? I thought you were following a paper...” Pua’s eyes give me a once over as she heads in my direction. Probably looking for anything bleeding that she’ll have to heal immediately. When her gaze catches on the Excalibur though, she recoils like she just caught a whiff of an open septic tank in the middle of summer, “Oh, by all the honored ancestors, what the hell is that.”

That’s enough to set Ku off laughing, which earns him a glare from his sister. A glare that he ignores with the ease of long practice. Thea just shakes her head at the two of them and heads downstairs, “I’ll go make sure we have enough food for Ericka once you’re done with her.”

That jerks Pua’s attention back to me, “Well?” She demands and starts towards me again.

“This?” I raise the hand with the sword in it, “This is Excalibur Blessing. Though I’m not sure how accurate the title is at this point. As it turns out, Roanoke is a Genius Loci roused by a curse from pissed off Native American shamans. A Genius Loci that’s been using this,” I wave the sword in my left hand around a bit again, “as a filter to turn wholesome natural mana into corrupted holy energy, and then using that energy to raise the dead to kill visitors.” I finish up by coughing again.

Ku is grinning like a mad man, “Wow sis, that sounds like one of our adventures, doesn’t it?”

Pua womanfully ignores him, “And the coughing?”

“Um... Smoke inhalation from when I set the island on fire,” I tell Pua a little sheepishly. Ku starts laughing again harder. Pua just stares at me flatly, “It was a really open environment! I thought that an open field would have plenty of ventilation.” The stare doesn’t abate, Ku’s laughing even harder though, “It seemed like a good idea at the time?”

Ku actually manages to fall down the stairs he's laughing so hard.

Pua just looks like she wants to throw her hands up in the air and give up on the world.

She certainly wants to give up on Ku and me at least.

###

Once Pua gets Ku to stop laughing and start helping, something accomplished by beating him about the head and shoulders with a pillow, it still takes almost half an hour to get my armor off. It really hasn’t been designed to come off, or be put on, any way but directly to or from my soul.

While Ku helps me to get out of the armor, Pua wraps the corrupted Excalibur in a piece of coconut fiber cloth. Cloth that has, apparently, been enchanted to keep malicious energies from leaking out of things wrapped in it. With both of those tasks done Pua forces me down onto the examination table in her work room and gives me a more thorough going over.

While she pokes and prods me I give a much more detailed and complete retelling of my adventures with the island. Aside from asking for the occasional point of clarification, the two of them just let me talk, and cough, but mostly talk.

When we’re both done, me talking and Pua poking, she drops something on my solar plexus about the size of a half dollar coin. Covering whatever it is with a hand she recites what sounds like a prayer in Latin. A prayer with a remarkable amount about God and Jesus in it for the decidedly pagan Kahuna. I know better than to interrupt her though, so I just let her do her thing. From beneath her hand a pure golden light seeps like liquid between her fingers, and a soothing gentle warmth sinks into my bones.

After only a few minutes, the prayer ends and the light and warmth fade. I blink a few times and take in a breath, and keep breathing in. Even with the constant coughing I hadn’t realized how little air I had been getting until I could take full breaths again. I actually get dizzy from the sudden increase in oxygen.

“What was that?” I manage to gasp out as I cling to the examination table so that I don’t fall off while the room is spinning.

“Modified angelic spell.” Pua explains watching me carefully, “They do ‘purity’ very well, and it only takes a few small adjustments to turn that from spiritual purity to physical. How do you feel?”

Slowly the room stops spinning while Pua talks, so I carefully sit up, pausing to see if the dizziness would come back when I start moving. After a moment I smile at my Kahuna, “Great actually.” I take another deep breath, “Air is really one of those things you never really appreciate until it's gone.”

Pua nods solemnly, then smacks me upside the head without changing her expression, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” She yells, “If you were anybody else you’d be dead! Your lungs were barely functioning! Somehow your regeneration was keeping just ahead of the brain damage you should have from too little oxygen for a prolonged period of time. If it hadn’t been you would have keeled over before you ever got the chance to jump down that well!” Pua throws her hands up in the air, “And what the hell was that about? What were you thinking, ‘there’s a sentient terrain feature that wants to kill me, but can’t right now because sunlight suppresses it. I know I’ll just jump into a place where there is no sunlight, and get myself surrounded by it! That’s a great Idea’!” And now she’s pacing, “I could almost forgive that piece of epic stupidity, brain damage excuses a lot of failures in thinking after all. What it doesn’t excuse is why you didn’t just call me in the first place! I could have...”

At this point I’ve had enough, so I reach out with both hands and grab Pua’s head. One hand covering her mouth, the other in a plum hold to keep her from just backing up and escaping. The two of us stare at each other for a long moment, her glaring and me kind of reveling in the warm fuzzy feeling of how much she’s concerned about me. After a few moments I raised an eyebrow at her, “Are you done?” Pua frowns harder at me and starts to lick my hand, “Really? What are you, six?” I do let her go though.

The tiny Kahuna aggressively crossed her arms under her chest, “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Are you going to answer my questions or do I have to get creative?” Those weren’t rhetorical?

I sigh, “I didn’t call you when I found out that there was likely something supernaturally off about the island because that seems to be the first step anytime I get into some new trouble, or run into a roadblock in my current projects. Eventually I’m going to leave, and then I’m not going to have you right there to answer all my questions. I want, I need, to get used to doing these things myself while I still have the safety net of you actually still being there. As to the rest of it?” I pause for a moment thinking of how to explain this before I decide that there really isn’t much to explain, “I took calculated risks that I thought I could handle. Seeing as I’m here being yelled at by you, and I got my first Excalibit I’d say I was right.” I glance at the cloth wrapped bundle, “Speaking of which, can we do something with that? I plan on being here for at least a few days, you can yell at me more then. Right now though that thing makes me really uncomfortable.”

Pua glares at me for another few moments, then slumps where she stands, “Fine. Vivain still has her forge setup and is spending most of her time there.”

“Really?” I hop to my feet, grabbing the cloth wrapped sword and Sclamhaire in her sheath, “I figured she’d have gone back to Faery by now.” Though this is more convenient.

Pua just shrugs, “I may negotiate with them, but I doubt a human can ever really understand what supernaturals like fae are thinking.”

Well... that’s probably true enough.

###

Sun light crashes down on me, filling me with heat. Warming me up in a way that I hadn’t known I needed, but have since Roanoke’s snow storm landed on me. It’s a clear day in the village, the sunlight reaching us unimpeded by anything. The sounds of the village are also comforting after the silence of the island that had only been broken by the cries of the bone golems.

The village is filled with the sounds of life. People talking, working, and children running everywhere shrieking and laughing. A herd of them, the eldest maybe nine, scurries past us. Following along behind them is their teenage minder. The poor boy looks like he’d rather be doing anything else than following the pack of knee biters around, but one of them is probably his sibling, and thus has no real choice in the matter.

The rampaging horde blows past us waving and calling greetings, to both myself and Pua before they’re off again. The sound of waves reaches me, bringing a small pang of some feeling from the reminder of Lei, but before I can wallow in that, or even really figure out what that feeling is, I’m distracted again. We pass the field where I’d taught the kids of the village gymnastics, and I’m surprised to find it occupied by a bunch of kids of all ages going through the exercises that I taught them. The older kids keeping an eye on the younger ones, spotting each other as I taught them to. We’re spotted by the kids, and end up waylaid as they insist on showing me how much they’ve improved since I saw them last.

I can’t bring myself to mind that much.

Eventually we extract ourselves with a promise that I’ll come back and do another lesson before I leave, and keep moving.

The sheer amount of green on the islands never fails to take me aback. Never mind the intensity of the color. For some reason no place ever seems to be as intensely green as Hawaii is. The smell of the air is different too, though that’s something that I think Pua does deliberately, because it’s less Hawaii that smells different, and more the air of the village that seems changed.

As we approach the fishpond, and the river through the middle of the village, that smell is slowly overtaken by the scent of fire and steel. The small looking shack that’s so much larger on the inside that serves as the Lady’s forge comes in sight, and is exactly how I remember it. The village hasn’t changed much, I haven’t been gone that long after all, but the forge hasn’t changed at all.

I think it might be a Fae thing.

The Lady of the Lake is there waiting for us though. Sitting in a chair in her smithy, the forge itself is currently unlit, her feet kicked up on her anvil a well worn paperback book in her hands. Pua pauses at the tree line of the clearing around the fish pond letting me approach the ancient fae on my own.

Vivain notices me, or at least acknowledges me, as I reach the threshold of her forge. She glances over the top of her book, and seems a little surprised to see me. Even more so when I place the thoroughly wrapped Excalibur on her anvil.

Vivain pulls her feet off the anvil and sits forward eyes intent on the cloth bundle, “Already? That’s rather quick.”

I shrug, “I got lucky. I ended up getting a good lead on the missing piece.” I wave a hand at the bundle that Vivain is already eagerly unwrapping, “It’s not in the greatest shape.” I tell her with a grimace, “It was being used in a way I’m pretty sure would void its warranty...”

I trail off as Vivain finishes eagerly freeing the sword from the cloth. She leans backwards grimacing slightly at the condition of the blade, and grabs a hammer from where it’s been resting on the edge of the forge proper. Then without even the slightest bit of hesitation, she brings the hammer down on the sword with what has to be a not small measure of her rather significant strength.

The Excalibur shatters.

I flinch backwards covering my eyes with an arm, for a moment really wishing that I still had my armor on. Nothing strikes me though. I half expected to be pelted by shards of corrupted magic sword. After a few moments I lower my arm and see the former Excalibur still entirely contained on the anvil. Vivain is sorting through the pieces, nudging them this way and that with the head of her hammer.

After a few minutes of looking she gives a soft happy cry, and reaches her hand into the mess of shattered metal and picks up a piece of it. Even I can tell at a glance that it’s not the same as the rest of the sword, the metal isn’t colored the same. Just seeing it produces a visceral response. Which would be enough to tell it’s not the same as the rest of the sword even if it wasn’t an almost foot long piece of one edge of a sword that had apparently been entirely contained within the blade of Excalibur Blessing.

Vivain holds it up triumphantly and I lean in for a closer look, “Is that...?”

The Lady of the Lake nods, “One of the seven pieces of the True Excalibur, the Sword of Promised Victory.” Vivain takes the piece and carefully sets it aside. Then carelessly sweeps the rest of what had once been Excalibur Blessing off the anvil and into a conveniently placed box of scrap metal, “That’s the one you weren’t sure if you would be able to get, right?” She doesn’t wait for me to respond before turning back into her forge and disappearing into the back. A moment later she’s back though carrying a beautifully crafted wooden box. The interior of the box, when she opens it, is lined in deep blue velvet. There are seven recessed indentations in the fabric that when taken together make the shape of a sword. The Excalibur fragment fits perfectly into one of those indentations.

Vivain closes the box which flares with mana when it’s latched. That done she turns back to me, “Have you decided what you want your extra trinket to be?”

I hesitate, then shake my head, “I have a few ideas, but I’d rather get the rest of the pieces before we talk about it. At the moment I’ve got a... buffer if you will, just in case something goes wrong with one of the others. It's a bit of insurance that I’d like to hang onto. Things tend to go wrong in the most unexpected ways rather frequently, I’ve found.”

The Lady of the Lake studies me for a moment then glances back to the box, “Very true.” She murmurs, “Very true.”

###

Dinner that night is both awkward and something I wouldn’t change for the world. Pua spends the entire meal grumbling at me for taking what she calls unnecessary risks. I spend it trying to defend myself, and only sort of succeeding. The only argument I have that really works is that it was my choice to make and it worked out fine, so clearly I made the right choice. Thea periodically scolds her wife for starting fights at the dinner table, and as the night goes on she seems to be getting increasingly annoyed about it. If Pua doesn’t give it up soon she might end up sleeping on the couch. Ku just seems happy to have us all there and spends the meal quietly laughing at all of our antics.

The next morning it’s back to Hawaiian usual, which means that Ku and I are in our training field hitting each other not long after the sun is up. Or rather I’m trying to hit him. Today we’re working unarmed and Ku has thus far been purely on defense. I’m stronger than him by a fairly wide margin at this point, as long as he doesn’t start using Mana Breathing to enhance himself, but that hardly seems to matter. He’s brushing my punches aside so smoothly that I can’t feel any impact when he moves my strikes off line. Hell, I barely feel pressure.

I throw a wheel kick at his head, just to change things up, and he catches my ankle on his forearm, lifting my leg over his head as he ducks without my kick slowing down at all. Then my other leg is swept out from underneath me and I hit the ground like a sack of bricks. For a moment I just lay there and groan.

At least that’s what I’m doing externally. Internally, I’m reviewing the high definition movie quality memories I have of everything Ku did thanks to my Tengu talent. The physical motions themselves aren’t complicated, it's the judgment of exactly how much pressure and where to press to render strength irrelevant that’ll be tricky.

Even with an unknown number of helpings of inhuman physical talent this won’t be easy. It’d require a lot of trial and error. Trial and error I’m not quite ready to get into just yet, my subconscious still breaking down the intricacies of the gross physical actions.

So to give myself some more time before the inevitable next step. The one where Ku manifests his Touki and I get to try and defend against him. I decide to ask a question I’ve been wanting to ask since Pua and Ku rescued me from the rampaging dragon.

“Hey Ku?” He looks at me curiously, “What did you do to kill that dragon? There weren’t any visible wounds, you just pressed your hand against it’s head and it fell over. At least that’s what it looked like.”

Ku studies me suspiciously for a moment. I try my best to look innocent. I’m not sure how well it works, as after a moment Ku just snorts a laugh at me. On the other hand he answers my question so... I must not have failed too badly?

“It’s a technique originating in northern China called ‘Ripple the Still Pond’.” He finishes in a dialect, of what I assume is Chinese, that I’d never heard before. Which isn’t hard as I’ve barely heard any dialect of Chinese before, “It uses the shock waves created by sharp impact to generate hydrostatic shock in soft tissue. The better you are at the technique the less impact is required to generate an appreciable result. So when I patted the dragon on the head...”

“It was more like you set off a small explosive in it’s brain.” I finish for him. That is one hell of a technique, “How long does it take to learn something like that?”

Ku smiles at me, “It took me two years to be able to perform the technique anything like reliably. Another five after that to get to what I’d call basically proficient. What you saw with the dragon is the result of an additional fifteen years of practice.”

I grimace, “So not something I’m going to pick up quickly if at all.”

Ku chuckles, “No. Really there are plenty of other things that you could spend your time on which would yield results much faster.”

He’s right really... but if I followed that philosophy, I wouldn’t have bothered to learn Script. World Script is incredibly complicated, difficult, and finicky. And also the single greatest tool I’ve found. Literally every bit of power I’ve gathered can be traced to finding that book in Cait’s shop. If difficult and time consuming but ultimately powerful has worked for me so far, why would I stop now?

“How hard would it be to teach me enough of it that I could keep practicing on my own?” I ask slowly.

“Well... not that hard I guess. The principles aren’t that difficult to grasp, it’s the execution that’s difficult.” He looks confused for a moment, then his eyes drift to my tattoos, and he smiles, “I don’t know why I expected a different answer from you. Always the more difficult, but more rewarding path for you, huh?” I just smile at him, and he nods in reply to my unspoken answer, “All right, I’ll show you what you’re trying for and explain how to do it. After that I’ll give you what advice I can, but it’ll mostly be down to you.”

I give him a huge smile, and follow him off to spend the rest of the day slapping the side of a wooden barrel filled with water.

###

I spend most of the third day I’m in the village, after I escape from Ku continuing the lesson I’d delayed the day before, fulfilling my promise to the village kids and watching them display how they’ve improved their gymnastic skills. I applaud and act impressed for the older kids, and get roped into giving introductory lessons to the younger kids who hadn’t been old enough to join in last time. I break up the get together for lunch, and send them back to their parents for food while I wander off to find someplace to just relax for a bit. Something I’m very aware wouldn’t have even occurred to me before I came here and got some pieces of my soul ripped out. As painful and uncomfortable as I found the experience, I can’t deny that it was probably very good for me. Even beyond Sclamhaire, and the rest of my equipment.

The Ke’Kua’Okolani beach is pretty much exactly as I remember it. Which isn’t surprising since it's only been a few months since I’ve been here. My last visit I avoided the beach just because I wasn't sure I was ready to see Lei again after our odd... relationship? We went on a few dates, but it never really got past that. Though they were enjoyable, and the end of our time together was amicable.

Now though, seeing her out on the water again, still teaching village kids how to surf is almost comforting. I’ve changed a lot since I left. It feels like it’s been a lot longer than just the few months it has been, but seeing her out there makes me feel like not everything has...

“Weird tattoos, stupidly tall, and staring at my girlfriend. You must be Ericka.” I turn to look at the hostile voice that’s just interrupted my musing, and find somebody I’ve never seen before. Which means she’s not a resident of the village. Even if I can’t remember everybody's names, anybody who lives in the village is at least familiar, which this woman isn’t. Which is unusual. Given how much magic is part of the daily life of the people here, and how badly some people take its existence. Most of the time strangers aren’t let into the village for any real length of time. Pua and the ali’i generally don’t think it’s worth the risk. Her Caucasian complexion reinforces the idea that she’s an outsider, and goes well with the light blue bikini she’s wearing. She’s in decent shape, certainly no extra fat, though not the kind of shape I’m in. Which to be fair, aside from Ku and people with a similar drive, nobody is. Her rich brown hair is done in a pixie cut which works for her. What doesn’t work for her, is the expression of anger and narrow eyed resentment she’s pointing at me.

“Yes I am.” I’m smiling, I think I know what’s going on here and if I’m right it’s very amusing, “You are...?” I ask, and hold out a hand to shake.

Which she takes almost on autopilot, as it seems that my rather friendly response to her decidedly hostile greeting has thrown her, “Um... I’m Beth.” After a moment she rallies, and goes back to being hostile, “Why are you staring at Lei? A little late to try and get her back isn’t it?”

I sigh, “Beth, Lei and I stopped seeing each other because we wanted different things. When I met her I wasn’t in the best place, and thought for a little while that what I wanted might change, but it didn’t. So we went our separate ways. That isn’t going to change now, but that also doesn’t change that she was there for me at a very rough time in my life, and she’s my friend.”

Beth seems taken aback for a moment, but then growls, “Just stay away from her.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that.” I nod towards where Lei has surfed onto the beach, spotted us, and starts waving happily before heading over, “That being said, if Lei and I had wanted the same things I never would have let her go. I recommend you don’t, and don’t let your insecurities drive you from her either.” I take a step towards Beth, lowering my sunglasses so that I can look at her over the top of them, and Beth can see my eyes, “It’s really not your choice who Lei spends time with. I wouldn’t recommend trying to take that choice from her. In the normal course of things, if I were somebody else, this would probably be where I would try to give you the shovel talk. I generally think threats are something that should be taken seriously though, so I’m not going to do that. Instead I’m just going to say again, she’s precious and you’re lucky to have her. Don’t fuck it up.” I step back and push my sunglasses back up, “Glad we had this talk.”

That’s as much as I get out before Lei pounces on me, hugging me tightly around the neck, and wrapping her legs around my waist so that she can stay there. Lei’s affection probably isn’t doing anything for her girlfriend’s peace of mind, though I appreciate it. I’d never start dating her again, but she’s still a friend and I enjoy her company.

Beth will just have to get used to it, Lei’s an affectionate person by nature. It’s part of why she was so good for me in the first place.

###

Pua finds me in the evening writing emails, and trying to organize my thoughts about that evening.

Lei had invited me to dinner with her and Beth, something that Beth agreed to with gritted teeth, and I accepted. The meal had started out spectacularly awkward, any sort of friendliness between myself and Lei set Beth on edge. Something she dealt with by drinking. A lot. It turns out that Beth is a very friendly drunk, so things got easier the more drunk she became.

The evening ended when Beth confessed that she’d been acting like a bitch because she found it threatening that I’m, ‘incredibly fucking hot’, and that I’m still on such good terms with my ex.

Then she downed another glass, and proposed a threesome.

Lei looked like she didn’t know whether to be intrigued at the idea, or scandalized that her girlfriend had just come out and said it.

I took the cowards way out, and after saying goodbye to Lei, fled.

When I got back to my room at Pua’s place, I had to do something with myself after that, so I wrote to Sarah about the whole thing. Including everything to do with Roanoke and the proposed threesome.

After I got done with that email, I decided to just get all my correspondence out of the way, and wrote to Asia. I’d just started on the email to my mother, when Pua knocks on the door and lets herself in.

I sigh, and push away from the computer to turn towards her, eyeing her carefully, “Is this going to be another rant about everything I did wrong on Roanoke?” I ask her warily, “‘Cause I’m really not in the mood for that.”

Pua sighs, and sits down on my bed, “No, it's not. I wish you’d handled it differently, however Thea and my brother have pointed out to me that you are in fact an adult, and can make your own choices. And as you pointed out you got out with minimal injury, and with the sword so it’s not like your judgement was wrong. You even had the good sense to come straight back here so I could heal you as soon as possible.” She sighs again, “So no, I’m not going to yell at you anymore. About this at least.”

I visibly relax at that, and let out a relieved breath. I don’t like it when Pua is mad at me, “Oh good. So what can I do for you?”

“What happened with the kitten you were asking me about last time?”

“Well I’m pretty sure that she both has severe depression, and that it’s the least of her problems.” I tell her with a groan, “The girl needs professional help. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to commute to Japan every week or so, and be the girls therapist?”

Pua opens her mouth then pauses. After a moment she closes it again and stands up and walks over to me. Leaning forward over me, her actually having a small height advantage while I’m still sitting, she cups both my cheeks holding my head still as she stares into my eyes.

Have I mentioned that Pua is really pretty?

Like really really pretty, the mix of Asian and Polynesian ancestry really works for her.

After a moment she steps back looking at me a little strangely, “This really matters to you doesn’t it? Like not just a little bit, the way this girl has been treated legitimately pisses you off.” I don’t really know what to say to that, so I just nod. Pua examines me for another moment then sighs, “I’ll see what I can do. I’m not making any promises, I’ve been really busy here recently as healer for the village. The village has to be my first priority, I may not have time.”

That actually reminds me of something else I’ve been meaning to bring up...

“I may be able to pay you back for your help then and lessen your workload while I’m at it.” I tell her with a smile. She looks back at me more than a little skeptically, “We’re coming up on the point where my friend Asia is going to be kicked out of the church. I’ve been thinking that, when that happens, I could send her here. She’s got Twilight Healing, and is a really sweet girl. A healer by nature, she’d jump at the opportunity to learn more from you, and could lighten your workload at the same time.”

“So let me get this straight. Your plan to pay me for taking care of one of your friends, is to give me another one of your friends to take care of?”

Well, when she puts it like that...

No! I can still sell this.

“Well, you were just complaining that you were overworked as a healer, and Asia does have a lot of experience in that field.” I point out, “And anything she doesn’t already know how to do you could probably teach her quickly.”

Pua glares at me, “Like I said, I’ll see what I can do. And when she gets kicked out you can send your healer friend along, and I’ll see how that works out. I make no promises.”

“That’s all I can ask.” I tell her with a smile.

Pua leans forward, planting her hands on the armrests of my chair, effectively trapping me in place. The look on her face as she leans forward, has me pressing myself into the back of the chair in an effort to escape, “In thanks, you can answer a question for me.”

“Uh... I can try.” My eyes are flicking back and forth looking for a way to escape. I don’t know what the trap is, but the fact I can tell it’s there means it’s probably already too late.

“Oh good.” Pua purrs, “What’s this I hear about a threesome?”

Oh shit, “How do you know about that? It happened like two hours ago!”

How the hell am I going to get out of this with my dignity intact?

“Kahuna~.”

Pua’s evil laughter tells me that I’m not.


	38. Book 1 - Fox Finding

I appear in my workshop in Kuoh, the last notes of the Script that brought me here fading from my lips. I drop the bag containing my armor, promising myself that I’ll put it on it’s stand later. It’s just so fiddly and I don’t have the energy right now.

Pua may have started out teasing me about the threesome, but the conversation had turned into something very different. Pua had apparently taken my desire to become more self sufficient for when I didn’t have her around to heart. My Kahuna had taken my reaction to the threesome offer, and used it as a springboard into talking about healthy sexual practices for a variety of different kinds of relationships she thought I might have in the future. Flings, relationships with a planned expiration date, long term relationships, distance, everything she could think of.

Apparently my lack of interest in pursuing that sort of thing now had her a bit concerned, the same way she had been concerned about my ability to socialize. Fortunately she didn’t take the same route to fixing this perceived problem, I’m perfectly comfortable leaving DxD a virgin. Instead of setting me up on dates, she just talked about every kind of romantic, or at least sexual interaction she could think of. And she made sure I would have at least a basic idea of what interests me, what doesn’t, and how to take care of myself when confronted with any of them.

It was the single most embarrassing conversation I’ve ever had in my life, even more so than when my father tried to give me The Talk, and I couldn’t look at Pua in the face afterwards.

I hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep, left early, and now just want to take a bit to unwind and deal with less stressful things. Like devils, gap stuff, and the source code of the universe.

Which of course means that Mia tackles me the moment I step out of my workshop.

“Oh, thank all the Kami you’re back!” She almost wailed clinging to my middle tightly, “I thought I was going to have to start foraging.”

I winced slightly. Tengu had tastes that ran very similar to their animal cousins. Which means that if one goes looking for an easy meal you have to hope they find it in a restaurant, and not on the street outside of the restaurant.

Not something I want in my house.

That being said, “What happened to the food in the fridge?” I ask, my eyes narrowing at the top of her head in suspicion.

“Weeeell...” Mia hesitates.

“Mia...” I prompt, my voice ominous.

“I got bored of what you made so decided I’d make something myself.” Oh god, no. Tengu tastes meant cooking the ‘fermented’ meat that they like, and that would ruin any kitchenware used in the process.

“Mia? What. Did. You. Do.”

“Well, my first try didn’t turn out so well, so I kept trying and pretty soon there was no food left!” She dissolves into slightly awkward laughter. I did my damnedest to set her on fire with my glare. She doesn’t ignite, but the laughter quickly fades, “I’ma dead bird, aren’t I?”

“No, but you’re certainly a poorer one. You,” I poke her in the chest, “are going to replace everything you ruined in my kitchen. While you’re cleaning up, I will go and get new groceries.” I glare at her harder, she still doesn’t have a courtesy to spontaneously combust so I move on, “When I come back I want it to be at least spotless. I can wait to have all the cookware replaced, which you will do, and I don’t want to see what you’ve done to my kitchen.”

I adjust the strap of Sclamhaire’s carrying case, and head towards the front door, “Right after I get home too, what the hell.” I mutter. Quickly enough I’m out the door and off down the sidewalk, trying as hard as I can to not think about what state my kitchen might be in.

Depending on what state things are in when I get back, I may never leave Mia at home alone again.

###

Kuoh is a very strange city, and not just because of its inhabitants.

Well, I guess it probably is down to them, but it’s not just their presence. The place is abnormally clean, everything is shiny and new, at least in the most frequented areas, and it clearly didn’t grow organically.

Really, Kuoh is a bunch of small towns all pressed up against each other. In walking distance of just about anywhere you can find grocery stores, pharmacies, and anything else you might need. To me, it seems like these places aren’t servicing a large enough area to stay in business, but it seems to work. Only a few things are less frequent, such as schools, hospitals, and the train station.

Which isn’t to say that all these local services are created equal. The grocery store in my neighborhood is particularly pathetic. If I was a starving college student then it would work great. It has all sorts of easy prepackaged foods that all you need is a microwave to make at least basically edible.

I hate prepackaged food. I don’t know what it is, but ever since I started dealing regularly with spirits, my tolerance for artificial anything entering my body has plummeted. It's not that I can’t eat processed foods, it’s just that, like brussel sprouts, that I can doesn’t mean I want to. It was another reason for me learning how to cook for myself.

The result of my preferences in the immediate, is that even though there is a close available source of things technically food, I rarely go there. The better store is a longer walk, but I’ve always thought it a worthwhile trip. I have to be a little more picky about what I get this trip, just because I don’t know how much damage Mia did to my cooking implements. So I get things that will be simple to put together, and hope for the best.

It’s on my way home that I figure out that it’s going to be one of ‘those’ days. The neighborhood I’m walking through is pretty upscale, and largely empty. The houses are all set a half floor above the ground, staircases jutting out on to the sidewalk providing access to the front doors. The houses themselves are town houses packed closely together, narrow buildings that get their floor space by being tall and deep. Really they’re the sort of buildings that I’ve seen in San Francisco on one of my few visits there growing up.

What catches my attention though, is the young man across the street who looks slightly familiar. He’s behaving in a fashion that sets off alarm bells in my head. It takes me a few additional steps to see that he’s cornered two girls between a staircase and the front of the house it’s attached to. They’re wearing some sort of school uniform and can’t be older than nine or ten. The boy has a grip on one of their shoulders, his other hand in the process of trying to get under her shirt.

“It’s okay,” I pause when he starts talking, “big brother just wants to play wit-hurk.” Somehow without conscious input on my part, I find myself across the street with my hand wrapped around his neck. I have him dangling a good few feet off the ground, holding him easily at the end of my fully extended arm. I really don’t want him getting any closer to me than necessary.

He has both of his hands wrapped around my wrist, and his feet are kicking frantically. All things that I very deliberately ignore to focus on the two girls. They’re both wearing the same uniform, one a little shorter has her hair in loose pigtails tied towards the top of her head, the other a little taller has her hair in a princess cut.

“Are you two okay?” I examine them as well as I can from where I’m standing, not wanting to make them feel trapped, or bring the boy any closer to them.

The tall one with the princess cut, curls in on herself and starts crying softly. The one with the pigtails tries to comfort her, wrapping her arms around her friend’s shoulders, while putting on a brave face, “Yeah big sis. We’re fine, Mariko-chan was just a little scared.”

I smile at her, “Not you though.” It’s a question, though I don’t say it as one.

The girl shakes her head looking adorably proud of herself, “Nope! I was gonna kick him in the balls, but you got him first big sis.”

That gets a chuckle out of me, “Good move, exactly what you want to do. Though next time, if there is one, kick them before they get you cornered so you can run while they're down. For now though, do either of you have a cellphone?”

The taller girl, Mariko I guess, nods still crying and largely hiding as best she can in her still nameless friend’s shoulder. After a moment of sniffling she fishes a flip phone out of her school bag. For a moment I’m surprised that flip phones still exist, then I remember that this is a ten year old, and it’s probably an excellent choice for a first phone. Smartphones are hardly standard yet, and still pretty expensive... I think?

When’s the last time I actually thought about what the non-supernatural world is doing?

Something to think about later. “Good. Would one of you two call the cops? Just because I can hold him here all day doesn’t mean I want to, and that would only solve the problem for today.”

Pigtails nods, and take’s her friend's phone since Mariko seems incapable of speech at the moment.

“Hey! I didn’t do anything!” Oh god he’s talking. I turn to acknowledge my captive and the camera hanging around his neck finally connects the dots of why he looks familiar. He’s one of Issei’s pals. The pedophile, unless I miss my guess, “What’s wrong with appreciating the beauty of a young girl?” Yup. I’m gonna need to boil my hand when I get home, “The flat che-ack...” I squeeze hard enough to cut off his air, and his rant, before he can really get going.

“Shut up and be happy I’m not popping your head off.” Oops, voice got away from me there.

At least it seems to have shut him up.

###

Conspiracy theorists everywhere are validated when the cops arrive, after a longer wait than I would have liked, with Sona Sitri and her Queen in tow.

The cops take the... boy, off my hands, and soon enough he’s in handcuffs and stuffed into the back of a cop car. The Sitri Queen, Shinra I think, follows along behind them doing something with the kid that I find I don’t really care about unless it ends with him out on the streets again. Another officer is getting a statement from the girls, and a third is doing the same with me.

My statement is short enough that I quickly find myself alone with Sona, “Is this going to be a regular thing Rhostana-san?”

“Depends.” I answer honestly, though Sona doesn’t seem to like that answer.

“On what?” She demands hands on hips.

“On how many pedophiles I catch in the act of trying to molest girls on the streets.” That takes some of the wind out of her sails. I’m not done yet though, “Any idea why he thought that he could get away with that kind of behavior?” I ask pointedly.

She’s at least got the decency to wince, “You recognized him?” I nod, “Either he or one of his two friends has a Sacred Gear, though we’re not sure which yet. We’ve been...”

“Protecting them from the consequences of their actions?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. Sona nods and I sigh. For a moment I think about telling her that Issei’s the one she’s looking for. It wouldn’t be hard to justify the knowledge, the sensory abilities that come with senjutsu are legendary. Pointing out that I practice a form of it is all I’d need to do, and nobody would think twice. Except maybe about how I learned senjutsu.

On the other hand, I don’t really want to start messing with canon more than I already have. If Issei becomes a devil early, will the fallen angels still show up to watch him? The only way those four fallen could be more acceptable targets is if they wore swastikas. And since they ended up dead in canon anyway I wouldn’t be risking anything by offing one of them myself. It’s about the best bet I’m going to get for wings. I’m not really letting anything terrible happen by not messing with things… 

In the end I just look back to where the Queen piece is finishing up with whatever she’s been doing to the pedophile, “At least you’ve narrowed down your choices a little bit?”

Sona turns to look in the same direction that I am, and we watch her Queen finish up. After a few minutes of silence Shinra turns to her King, and shakes her head, “Not this one then?” I ask to make sure I follow the nonverbal communication.

“Apparently not.” Sona looks mildly relieved. Which I can’t blame her for. Whoever has the gear is going to end up in her friend’s peerage. I wouldn't want somebody like that boy around my friends either. The remaining two of the perverted trio are at least marginally more tolerable, if only in the sense that they’re not likely to try and molest young girls.

“Does this mean you’re going to let the courts do their thing?”

Sona nods, “If he doesn’t have a gear I have no reason to protect him. I have no desire to either.”

“Good. I should be going then. I’ve left my roommate alone with my kitchen again. Given what she apparently did to it while I was away, that’s not really something I’m comfortable with.” I glance around, and find the groceries I purchased still in their bags on the sidewalk across the street.

At least it looks like I won't have to go back to the store. I nod to Sona and start on my way only to be brought up short by her hand on my elbow, “Before you go, Lucifer sent something for you.” I raise an eyebrow in curiosity as Sona pulls an envelope from her uniform, holding it out to me.

I take it, and carefully open it to get a look at what’s inside. I find a feather colored red and gold flickering with cool fire, and a note.

Fishing it out, I glance over the short note;

Not his, but it should be close enough.  
-Lucifer

I grin pulling out the feather itself to get a closer look at it, now recognizing it for what it is.

A Phenex feather.

###

I frown as my pebble hits the ground again, I wouldn’t have thought that this would be as difficult as it is. Especially given how smoothly everything else has gone since the jackass with the camera got arrested. Though I didn’t manage to escape before promising to meet up with Sona for another chess game. I think these games are going to end up being a regular thing. I am happy that Sona seems to be taking the idea of being my liaison seriously.

My kitchen was fine when I got back home. So fine in fact I suspect that anything that had gone wrong with it had been cleaned up long before I left Roanoke. Meaning everything that had happened in the hall way when I had returned was just Mia being a drama bird purely for her own amusement.

I’d complain but... honestly she could be doing so many, much worse things to entertain herself, that I decided to just leave this alone.

Adding the Phenex to the Kuoh map was equally easy. Finding out that there was a Phenex in the city at the moment I started the map back up again nearly gave me a heart attack though. I nearly went out looking for him right then, but he wasn't anywhere near any other devil so I decided to call my client first.

Lucifer told me to leave it alone. Apparently, as Rias’ betrothed, Riser has access rights to her territory. Meaning that until she gave him the boot he had every right to be there. Which, fair enough, was not my problem yet. I did give Sona a heads up that Rias’ fiance is hanging around in her city though. She didn’t seem happy but also seemed resigned to the idea that she can’t do anything about it.

With those two things taken care of, my life turned back to routine rather quickly.

Part of that routine meant getting back to training Rias’ peerage. Which is what I’m going to be doing today. In a little while. I arrived early to practice my TK as my trip to the killer island had brought to my attention some issues.

Using my TK as a method of rapid movement works rather well, except that yanking myself around like that causes all sorts of problems with acceleration and deceleration. I’m not sure how to counter my internals getting slammed around by the initial movement, but I’m sure I can make stopping easier if I can catch myself.

Thus me standing around trying to juggle pebbles at range. I glare at the dropped pebble again. It’s a work in progress.

I start trying to bounce the pebble in the air again, determined to get it this time.

At first I’d thought that catching something larger would be easier. Easier to target, and easier to keep track of. As it turns out, thanks to my various enhancements, keeping track of a small rock at the range of a few yards is stupidly easy. Add to that the smaller object is actually easier to juggle because I don't have to pull my mental bowstring back nearly as far to catch it. So it’s easier to generate the necessary force to bounce the pebble again quicker...

The foliage just past the tree line closest to where my pebble is rustles. I narrow my eyes focusing my senses to try and spot what might have moved.

Everything has stilled, I can’t smell anything, and whatever it is isn’t moving so I can’t hear it... My mana senses though, show me something familiar. A slow smile grows across my face and I resume bouncing the pebble.

The brush shifts again.

The stone bounces up and down in the air.

Suddenly a white streak shoots out of the brush flailing wildly at my practice rock.

Shirone misses the stone, and hits the ground on all fours, spinning around to face her prey as quickly as she can. Her two tails thrash back and forth hard enough to drag her rear end slightly behind them. Her giant kitten ears are visible on her head, and perked forward focused on the stone, waiting for it to make its move.

After a moment’s pause to build the tension, I send the rock skittering across the ground, and Shirone takes off after it. Just as she’s about to catch it I snap my bowstring again, and her prey suddenly changes course forcing her to scramble after it.

A smile grows on my face as I continue to send the stone darting around for Shirone to hunt and chase. It’s not the training I had been planning on, but it works just as well, and I already feel better about... everything.

Quickly enough, I fail to catch my pebble, leading to Shirone leaping through the air to pounce on it. She lands on it hands first, and manages to send herself tumbling ass over teakettle. Only to almost levitate, though as a devil for all I know she did, and spin back onto her feet to lunge at the stone again. Her hands stretched out and batting at the rock.

After a moments epic battle, Shirone secures her target, and comes trotting back to me. Her tails high and waving back and forth like flags. Upon reaching me Shirone head buts my hip hard enough to send me staggering backwards a step, and purring loud enough to be confused with a diesel engine.

I can’t help but laugh and rub her head, which gets me another smile and even louder purrs.

“So what brings you here early?” I ask her after a moment as she continues to rub against me, and I continue to pat her head between her giant ears, “You’re not due for training for another half an hour or so.”

Shirone shrugs, and scuffs her feet slightly, now more girl than cat, “Wanted to see you.” She mutters towards the ground.

I raise an eyebrow, “You’d see me at training.” I point out, very careful to not give any hint that she should have waited. I’m just asking a question, no judgement involved.

She shuffles her feet again, “Wanted to play. Training isn’t play time.” Her soft voice would be a struggle to hear with the way she’s looking at the ground, if it weren’t for my enhancements, “None of the others will play with me. Kiba’s too serious, Rias just wants to watch anime, and Akeno’s idea of fun isn’t anybody else's.” She pauses for a moment then looks up at me with giant golden kitten eyes, “But you’re a cat too. You know how important play is.”

I blink, I’m a what now?

Cait, I have no idea what’s going on, but it’s all your fault.

Still, I don’t mind playing with her, “Are you going to give me the stone back?” Shirone shakes her head, eyes bright. I narrow my eyes at her and dart forward, shooting a hand towards where she has the pebble clutched in her hand.

The nekoshu darts backwards, her ears perked and tails waving back and forth. Her body language and scent clearly screaming ‘play’. I dart forward after her, and for a few minutes I chase the girl around the clearing.

She runs away from me laughing, until I decide that I need to get back to my own training. I snap my bow string, and Shirone’s head snaps to the side where another stone just skittered away from her as though startled. She freezes, and stares eyes wide, and after a moment or two the stone skitters away from her again. As it moves so does she, darting closer to it, freezing again as soon as the rock stops moving.

Slowly, a little at a time, she closes on the rock as it moves. Finally she’s close enough, and pounces at it. I snap my bowstring though, and her prey darts out from underneath her. She takes off after it, and we’re off to the races again.

Me trying to keep a consistent acceleration and erratic course.

Her trying to catch the evading stone.

It’s almost a shame that Kiba will show up soon and we’ll have to do something more serious, but for now we can play.

Shirone is right after all, play is important.

Especially if it’s training at the same time.

###

Kiba lunges for me, swinging hard. His attempt to step around my wooden practice sword without anything else to occupy it fails dismally. I shift slightly to track him, and step into his swing, thrusting forward. The blunted tip of my practice sword strikes him in the chest hard enough to knock him backwards, making his swing something I can watch go past in front of my face.

The Knight hits the ground hard, frustration in every line of his body and filling his scent. I let out a sigh and glance to where I have Shirone practicing footwork and precision drills. She’s dancing around a post taller than she is, that’s covered in twenty numbered circles, each the size of her fist. Her job is to maneuver around the post as quickly as she can, striking each circle in order. The trick being that she has to perform two evasion maneuvers in between each strike, and she can’t use the same two evasions in a row.

The exercise should increase her hand precision, and get her used to moving around a target while dodging. So far it looks like it’s working, she’s darting in and out, slipping from side to side and even lifting her forward leg on occasion to evade what I assume is an imagined low kick. Through all of it, she moves continuously and smoothly exactly as she should. She’s not moving quickly, but speed will come with time and practice.

I turn back to my other student who’s only just now picking himself up. Kiba isn’t doing as well. We’ve gotten rid of most of his flourishes, mostly via him going through his practices and me yelling ‘no’ at him every time he tries to do something unnecessary. After doing that for an hour, I make him spar with me, under the assumption the only way he’s going to start closing up other openings is by me hitting him every time he leaves one.

After beating on him for another hour or so though, I’m beginning to think his problem might be his state of mind. Which isn’t to say he doesn’t still have copious technical flaws, but as Ku points out to me every time I go home to Hawaii, everybody has those. Kiba’s thinking is what we need to correct now.

“All right, break time everybody. Shirone come over here and sit down, Kiba you don’t have to stand up.” Shirone stops her exercise and trots over to where I’ve sat down myself, and flings herself onto the ground next to me with a thud. Kiba simply drags himself to a sitting position obviously still frustrated at what he perceives as a lack of progress, “Kiba,” I sigh as he looks at me resentfully. The Prince of Kuoh is gone, replaced by a sullen teenager. I am completely unsurprised. “in a fight, what’s your number one priority. What’s your goal?”

Kiba looks at me suspiciously. He’s smart enough to know that when asked an obvious question, the obvious answer is probably not correct. After a moment he goes for the answer I’m kind of expecting anyway, “To defeat your opponent?” I shake my head. Kiba looks confused but not surprised, “Then what? Kill your enemy?”

“Which is basically another way of saying the same thing.” I point out.

The boy flips onto his back with a frustrated hiss, “What should be my priority then?”

I look down at the little cat girl sprawled next to me, her eyes closed as she basks in the afternoon sunlight. If she was cat shaped at the moment, I don't think I’d be able to resist rubbing her tummy, “Shirone? You want to venture a guess?” Shirone shakes her head without opening her eyes. I roll my eyes at her, which is less than effective since she’s not looking at me. And may not be conscious now that I think about it, “Any time you get into a fight, your number one priority, your overriding goal should always be to survive. First make sure you live, then worry about the state of the other guy.”

Kiba picks his head up, looking at me with a frown down the length of his body, “But I’m a knight, I’m prepared to give my life in the defense of my King. If I must take a blow to land a blow isn’t that what I should do?”

“Ever been on an airplane?” He blinks at the apparent non sequitur, but nods anyway, “You remember what they say about putting on air masks? Make sure your own is secure and working first, before attempting to help anybody else.” He still looks confused, “Think of it this way. You’re fighting somebody in Rias’ defense. You see an opening that would let you kill them, but taking it would let them get a crippling strike on you. Do you take it?”

“Of course.” He’s frowning at me now, “I just said I’m prepared to give my life for Rias.” God, hearing him say that makes me uncomfortable.

“Right, you take the shot, you kill your enemy, you’re now down a leg.” I raise an eyebrow at him, and he nods again seeming satisfied, “Now his six friends blow right past you and have a free shot at Rias.”

“Hey!” Kiba sits up, “You didn’t say that there were more of them!”

“I didn’t say he was alone either. You assumed. Even if there weren’t more enemies right there and then, the injury you were willing to accept would have kept you out of action for at least a few days, even as a devil. Most likely you would have been down a few weeks. What if Rias is attacked while you’re convalescing?”

Kiba looks like he doesn’t know how to respond for a moment, then he grows angry, “Then what the hell am I supposed to do? If I only defend and never attack how am I supposed to...” He cuts himself off then and looks away with gritted teeth. I’m still pretty sure I know what he was going to say though. Something about vengeance for all his companions who died in the holy sword project. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m going to have to warn Rias that Kiba’s passively suicidal.

Instead I let out a long suffering sigh, “Kiba, have you ever landed a hit on me?” Kiba shakes his head angrily, “No. And yet I beat the crap out of you regularly. So it’s obviously possible to preserve your own life while attacking somebody else. We just need you to learn how to do that. Which is what I’m trying to do. All right?” Kiba looks dubious but rises back to his feet. I ruffle Shirone’s hair, “Break's over, time to get back to work.” Shirone whines, but dutifully heads back to her post.

I pull myself to my feet, and face my second student again, “This time, before you rush me, get my sword out of the way. It’s called beating, I know you know it. We’ll deal with other options later.” Kiba comes at me again after knocking my sword off line, and with less frustrated fury. Those are the only things that have changed though.

This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.

###

I get home later than I’d like from training. Kiba’s stubbornness should be the stuff of legends. Unfortunately, the only way I can see to get him to fix his problems if he won't listen to me, is to beat them out of him. Even if he’s not overly attached to his own skin, pain is still a great teacher.

Opening the door I’m met with chaos. Mia is running around, pulling weapons that I didn’t know were in the house, out of hiding places that I wouldn’t have thought could hold them. She’s tossing the results of her lethal scavenger hunt into a bag with little care, aside from the fact that her finds are actually in the bag.

Her head jerks up as I come through the door, “Oh thank all the Kami you’re here! I was afraid I’d have to leave a note!”

I stare dumbly for a long moment before I can find some words, “Um... Okay?” Not my best words, “What’s going on?” Much better.

“I just got a call from Kyoto. We’ve got an all hands on deck situation. Kunou’s gone missing.” I blink several times as I let that sink in, “Was there an attack? Some part of the coup that got missed?”

Mia goes back to packing as she talks, “It doesn’t look like it. Or at least there were no signs of a fight. Kunou’s maid went to wake her up in the morning, and she wasn’t there. Her bed was slept in, but no kit. The entire Yokai forest was searched before they determined that she wasn’t anywhere inside the wards. We’re all getting called in to search the city, if we don’t find her in Kyoto we expand the search.”

I groan. It’s always something, “Should I get my armor on? Do you want my help?”

“You weren’t mentioned. I’ll bring up your offer when I get there, but for now stay put. Everybody is going to be really trigger happy right now, don’t want you getting attacked by accident.” Mia shoots me a strained grin.

“Right.” I scrub my face, and run my hands through my hair, “For now I’ll just...” The doorbell rings, “Go answer that.”

I head to the door wondering, what fresh hell is waiting on the other side. I pull the door open and for a moment, I think I’ve been doorbell ditched.

Then I look down.

“Mia?” I call over my shoulder.

“Whatever it is Ericka, I don’t have time. You know that.” Mia calls back to me.

“I really think you have time for this.” I tell her, bemused.

“What on earth,” Mia stomps her way over to me, her voice clearly irritated, “could be so important...” Mia trails off as she looks around me. At my front door, in an oversized sweatshirt, and carrying a My Little Pony backpack, is Kunou. She looks more than a little sheepish, and worried upon seeing Mia, but otherwise looks exactly like she did the last time I saw her.

“So I think this makes me three for three at fox finding.” I tell Mia, who just glares at me.


End file.
